


Learn the Tube

by Kaamos (reckless_love)



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angband, Big Cock, Bottom Melkor, Dirty Talk, Food Porn, I'm Sorry Tolkien, Kink Public, M/M, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Philosophy, Piercings, Porn With Plot, angbang, i don't know what tag I should add, light spanking eventually, mostly bottom melkor but also bottom mairon, naughty mairon, naughty melkor, philosophical porn, practice, searching for my style, small ass, tons of kinks, tons of smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2018-09-08 04:05:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 82,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8829823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reckless_love/pseuds/Kaamos
Summary: Everything just looks like an accident.But no one could ever say that a burning love is by chance.*Basically, a two-chapters idea developed into a full story/family saga*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know I should give a better intro to this story but, until now, I still don't know how! Shortly said, this fic is all about an extensive network of relationships: between coworkers, between lovers, between partners, between brothers, between father and sons, between family/-ies members, between cats and so on.  
> The main relationship obviously is Angbang♡ (♡Melkor/Mairon♡) and everything revolves around them.  
> Stay with me if you're interested in it: I hope I'll not disappoint you. ♡♡♡
> 
> Ps: Sorry for my English : it's not my mother tongue.

> Learn the subways, Kevin.  
>  Use them.  
>  Stay in the trenches.  
>  Only way I travel.
> 
> **The Devil’s Advocate**
> 
>  

 

***Monday evening 

As the Arabica blend reaches his nostrils, Mairon feels the perfect sense of relax. But the news on the most influent newspaper catches immediately Mairon’s attention.  
Apparently, the famous and controversial architect and designer Melkor Bauglir is searching for a personal assistant.  
Mairon frowns his forehead.

First of all, in all environments, these kind of jobs are assigned to relatives , friends, friends of friends or lovers.  
And second, three months before, he took his Master of Architecture with a thesis about the most imposing of Bauglir’s creations.  
  
Perhaps, between one coffee and some copies, the boss could ask for his opinion.  
Well, that’s just a dream, one wild self-deception. And Mairon is not a dreamer, not at all.  
In any case, always it worth to try; after all, in the office in which he’s working currently, he doesn’t feel very appreciate.  
Therefore, he sends his CV with the application form, thinking in a depressive way how many people are doing the same thing at the same time.

“I’ll never get a reply”, he thinks out loud as he shuts his portable, before having a hot shower.

Two days later, unbelievably, he gets the appointment for the job interview via SMS. A simple, short message with date, time and place.

 

***Friday morning

 

Mairon hates the subway. Subways bring out the worst in people.  
The most intolerable thing is the smell. And Mairon’s nose is sensible to smells. Quite apart from the fact that he has a strong regard for his personal space. Almost obsessive. 

 

Melkor loves the subway. Subways bring out the worst in people.  
It’s a great pleasure to observe how people behaves, acts  or pretends all the time. In his vision the tube is the perfect example of modern contradiction, the basis of their civilised society; on the one hand, a man can do what he wants in the tube and no one will risk life and limb contesting or protesting. On the other, the people are gathered together and forced to respect some rules bigger than them. Like sheep. Or pigs.  
But today he has not so much time to enjoy all of the spectacle. His to do list for the day is endless. So, smartphone at hand, he checks the forty-seven email he got in less than five seconds. Fortunately the music from his bluetooth lightens his mind.

 

The first part of the journey is not so repulsive for Mairon. There’s few people in his car. Indeed all the seats are taken but to stand is not so annoying. Using well his time, Mairon brings out all his papers from his bag to check again numbers, dates, email addresses and works experiences.  
At the first stop, a crowd of people fills the car up.  
Mairon starts to feel uncomfortable. One elbow in his side, someone who steps on his foot and the girl in front of him who yells at her crying child. And the jolts. Impossible to keep the balance with so much people and so much jolts. So he grabs desperately the handrail before him.  
‘Keep calm, three more stops and you’ve got’, says Mairon to himself.  
The second stops is more difficult: more people, more din and he feels like he is a sardine in a can.

Melkor is forced by the crowd to step back. Too much people and too much jolts. So he grabs the most near handrail next to him; he whispers absentminded “Sorry” to the guy in black suite, who stands exactly between him and the handrail, but he’s not sure he really spoke or just imagined it. Then, scrolling his email with the free hand, he continues with his email check.

 

The man behind him grabs the same handrail. Practically he hugs half of Mairon’s side; he perfectly feels the man’s body’s form. And his smell fills Mairon’s nostrils.  
Mairon closes his eyes. Astonishingly his fragrance is wonderful: warm, sultry, rich and complex.

 

Melkor glimpses at the guy before him. He gives him his back so he cannot see him in face. But that’s not the point: his hair is the point. A coppery red long tail that smells transparent, silky and very sexy.  
Subways always get good surprises.  
And then it happens.  
The woman behind Melkor moves her stroller and presses Melkor more backwards.

 

And then it happens.  
The man’s thigh brushes and rests against Mairon’s ass.  
Mairon stiffens as his private space is violated in the worst way.  
The third stop brings more people. The room reduces further.  
As the man presses again, Mairon understands that’s not his thigh. Moreover, the man’s breath is against his nape.  
Mairon shivers lightly, almost faintly.

 

It takes some seconds extra to Melkor to understand how _too much_ he is in contact with the guy in the black suit. He gasps and tries to step back but…there’s no space in either direction. So he decides to stay still and make the situation as less embarrassing as possible.

 

When Mairon feels the man’s  gasp, something in his mind is out of control. His morality slips away. His claustrophobic sense evaporates. That’s the adrenaline effect because of the job interview.  
So he lifts and pushes lightly his ass against the man’s body. Now that huge cock is exactly in the middle of his butt crack.  
Honestly, if they were alone, he would turn himself and knee and suck that big fat cock enjoying every single second of it, without even give a brief sight at the man.  
But, no, it’s more than enough, as Mairon’s mind reclaims a little of control over his body.

 

Now Melkor has no doubts.  
The red haired guy is teasing him. Even if they are in public, it’s not enough for him. He puts quickly his smartphone in his pocket and pushes his hip a bit forward, to meet in the perfect way that small and round ass; and, not yet satisfied, with his index, he trails the guy’s left earlobe; he touches lightly his helix, the ending part of the industrial, the snug, and four silver loops that garnish the lower part of the earlobe. Then he whispers - this time consciously - in his ear

“ _Naughty_ ” 

before leaving the car, as he reached his stop.

 

Mairon breaths out as he feels the man's reaction and closes his eyes while he touches his piercings.  
Hot quivers cross his body, from his head to his feet. And his voice…god, it’s so deep and sexy. ‘Naughty’ he whispered. Yeah, you can scream it as we fuck like animals.  
And, in a second, the car is half empty.  
Just in time to turn his face and see the back of the man. Tall, large shoulders, long black hair and a bluetooth headphones.  
And he misses his stop.

 

***

Two hours later finds Mairon sitting in the waiting room for the job interview. Alone.  
He thought to find at least ten people in the same condition. That’s a surprise. The second of the day.  
Heart hammering in his chest, still a bit upside-down for what happened in the subway. That was _not_ the Mairon he knows. What’s happening to him?  
Adrenaline. That was only adrenaline.  
He clears his mind up, as long as he can. This interview is too important to fuck everything up.  
Suddenly, a man steps in the room. 

“Mr. Mairon Gorthaur?”, he asks. 

“It’s me, yes”, Mairon replies. 

“Please”, the man shows him the path. 

They reach one office. The door is closed. The light on the interphone is red. 

“As soon as the light turns green, I introduce you and then you enter the room”, explains the man. 

“Who do the interview?”, asks Mairon. 

“Mr. Bauglir himself”, replies the man. 

“That’s strange”, utters Mairon. 

“Yeah! Well…the boss is… eccentric. You will see by yourself”, explain the man of the security. 

“Also it’s unusual the search of a personal assistant. Usually this kind of places are taken by relatives, friends or lovers”, says Mairon, giving too much confidence to the man. The adrenaline – again – as Mairon is not a so talkative person. But the man, Gothmog, as Mairon can read his name on the uniform, loves to chat. 

“As I know, the boss has no lovers”, laughs the man, “and friends are a rarity nowadays”. 

“How true you are”, comments Mairon, “Am I the only one candidate?” 

“Mr. Bauglir selects personally the candidates and his… assessment grid is very strict”

That is a compliment.  
And, suddenly, the light turns green. 

“I don’t know why but I like you. Let me give you one suggestion. No arrogance with him. At least for the interview”, the man winks, “and don’t give him immediately what he wants”. 

“What does this mean?”, asks Mairon with puzzled face. 

But it’s too late.  
The man enters the room, presents Mairon and then, Mairon steps in. 

One rich and sultry fragrance fills Mairon nostrils.  
Mairon gasps.  
The man at the desk is still head down on some papers but Mairon doesn’t need anything else as his nose understands perfectly who he is. The strong shoulders, the black long hair and the bluetooth headphone confirm the suspicion.  
Mairon only wants to die.

On his side, Melkor takes some more seconds to understand, as he lifts his face from the desk to face the candidate.  
But that red hair and those piercings… 

“Please, Mr. Gorthaur, come in and take a seat”, says Melkor without hiding the huge smirk painted on his lips and a vivid sparkle in his eyes, “and, yes, close the door behind you”. 

That’s a surprise. 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first chapter: from a misunderstanding to a sin.  
> second chapter: from a sin to a game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoy it. If you have time, read again the first chapter before the second one to have the same feeling of Mairon.  
> I've changed the rate from "mature" to "explicit".  
> If you are not disappointed but not yet satisfied...let me know. I would like to develope the story...it's becoming intriguing.

The initial discomfort vanishes as Mairon sits in front of him. You have nothing to fear if your fate is already sealed. Indeed he can foresee how the interview will run. At first, the debasement about how  _lowly_  qualified he’s for update Bauglir’s planner; then the personal debasement, highlighting a sort of suspicious moral behaviour not suitable for the image of his office.  
The point is that Mairon knows exactly the way the things happened in the tube so he’s not going to be blamed for all: Bauglir will not have this satisfaction.  
So he sits, crosses his legs and tilts his head waiting for the first provocation.

“It seems that we share the same passion”, states Melkor, eyes on some papers that Mairon cannot see.

“The subway?”, replies Mairon in a too insolent way.

Melkor glances quickly at him and he cannot hide a big grin on his face before putting again his eyeglasses on and taking a paper ream from the desk.

“My work brings me a lot of…pleasure, so I don’t like to mix private life with business during the working hours”, comments Melkor, with his impassive expression on his face, “What one does in his free time doesn’t concern me”.

The first shot: lack of professionalism.

“I am of course referring particularly to the building of Utumno and”, pauses Melkor to clear his voice, “the construction material I selected for it”.

Mairon frowns his forehead: “Is that…my PhD thesis?”, asks with  astonishment in his voice.

“I requested a copy in the University department”, Melkor lifts his eyes and watches a shocked Mairon for a couple of seconds before continuing, “In your words – «In Utumno the most advances technologies and innovative raw materials in the built state are a reality; the basis of Bauglir’s work is to seek material innovations that go beyond what is conventionally available in current building industry»”. 

“I’ll be frank with you, Mr. Gorthaur. In many years of work I’ve never found someone who understood so deeply the meaning of my work. You interlined, also, my critic to the moral and social status”, ends Melkor.

“Neither my supervisor got it”, replies Mairon.

“Naturally”, comments Melkor, rising his left eyebrow, “So”, he continues, “this is my first question for you. Why a young, intelligent and promising architect, as I see from your works, applies as odd-job person?”, as he takes his eyeglasses off, fixing his blue almost grey eyes on Mairon.

“If I get the job”, replies Mairon candidly, “might it be the risk that I would learn something more and from a better master”.

Melkor sniggers as the corner of his mouth lift lightly.  
Narcissist as he is, he can’t resist a good dose of flattery served in the most perfect way.

“I tried to get an appointment with you, Mr. Bauglir, before writing down my thesis. Also my professor called you but he said he didn’t get any answer”, explains Mairon.

Oh yes, there was one Aulë’s call that Melkor ignored, intentionally, more or less 6 months before. The only one call that was worth answer, apparently.

“I planned an experimental thesis but your PR office replied that it was impossible to make an appointment, in a very short space of time, clearly”, continues Mairon, “Then, they got rid of me promising a faraway appointment. No one from the office called me back as I’m still waiting for it”.

“Can you invoice and write off an invoice?”, asks Melkor.

“I’ve done nothing different since three months”, replies Mairon.

“How is your coffee?”, presses Melkor.

“I prepare my blend personally. Basically Arabica with a little ratio of Robusta, to contrast the acidity; no more than 30% is the perfect match. But it’s depends also by how much of caffeine you need”, answers Mairon.

Melkor watches Mairon intently.

It’s not so bad to have an assistant, who is also an architect. The challenge is exciting from many points of view. First of all, the guy is extremely intelligent and has a strong potential as architect: it would be a waste to not develop it in his own favour. Moreover, the guy is intriguing, not less than juicy. But Melkor doesn’t mix pleasure and work during working hours.

“From Monday,  8:30. I arrive at nine o' clock. Don’t ask for working hours ahead of time: you will be here as long as I require it. Before the deadline of big commitments, Saturdays and Sundays don’t exist. Forty-five minutes for lunch and two breaks of fifteen”, a little time off, “And you keep your phone turned on during night. Two copies of my planner and keep with you your copy twenty-four seven”.

Mairon simply nods. Mr. Bauglir is a starchitect, so nothing different he expected.

“Administrative aspects completed”, pauses Melkor, “Now, what you do tomorrow evening?”, continue Melkor nonchalantly.

“What?”, asks Mairon.

“I think you’ve understood perfectly”, replies Melkor.

“Oh”, says a fake surprised Mairon, taking his mobile out from his pocket.

 _Don’t give him what he wants_.

“I have a prior engagement to attend”, replies Mairon, lying through his teeth, “But maybe next Saturday. Of course we’ll catch up in the week, then”.

After all, these kind of jobs are given to relatives, friends or lovers. For sure they don’t belong from the first two ranks.  
And tradition must be respected.

 

 _***_  Monday

The day starts in the worst way possible. The only appreciation he gets is about his coffee.

“Good morning, Mr. Bauglir”. Mairon greets his boss receiving no answer back as he steps in the floor of his office.

“First my coffee, second you take one appointment for the module FL-1653X, third you check all the changings in energy efficiency matter listing the new development about insulation of buildings, fourth you spot the differences with the previous laws, then you send it to me by email; and before your lunch break you call the contractor: I just got an email from them, they pushed the date again and it’s not acceptable”

Melkor studies his assistant, stock-still in the open space with a strange expression painted on his face.

“I won’t say twice”, Melkor smirks with a hint of sadistic pleasure.

“Got it”, Mairon lies, relying on his retroactive memory.

“My coffee”

Melkor has a difficult character: sometimes is feisty and quarrelsome and hard to get along with; sometimes he’s calm and unperturbed and steady. When he’s in the first mood, he gets angry – mad furious, to be precise –  and picks on Mairon, of course. It takes 3 hours to Mairon to understand how to manage with his boss. As Melkor screams, Mairon crosses his arms and tilts his head. Then, “are you done?”, before he quits the room with his natural calm. 

*** Evening

Mr. Bauglir and his assistant, Mr. Gorthaur, take the same tube line. In the morning their time is different because they have different schedule at work but, in the evening, they finish the job together, as Mr. Bauglir requires it.

They steps in the tube car.  
After his first and heavy day of work – constantly in tension, with too much things to learn and too much errors – Mairon only wants to rest his mind.  
There’s another thing that is torturing his soul.  _His smell_. Working one full day in contact with his smell was something almost unbearable. And, now, one thing is to be in the same room, while they work, with his scent that fills the space up; another thing is to be in the tube – after what happened the previous week – with that erotic man, very few steps from him, close to his body, with his perfume that rises directly from his hair.

 

Melkor observes Mairon; it’s not only his pure beauty that arouses him: there’s nothing more alluring than a person who is aware of his seductive body but it’s blocked by streaming hot guilt. Or embarrassment. Or, simply, the anxiety of the beginner. Or whatsoever it is.  
He will destroy that barrier. Yes, he will. So, with that purpose, Melkor starts his game with him. He decides to step forward, to reduce the safe distance between their bodies, and to entertain them with Mairon’s hair, catching locks of his coppery hair, letting them slide between his fingers. 

Melkor has his predatory eyes fixed upon him, almost without blinking; this fact gives to Mairon some hot quivers as he can’t keep from watching him; but he lowers his gaze immediately, only to rise it again: he needs to study his features, those grey eyes, those well shaped lips. He needs to, as his scent numbs comfortably his mind. 

Slowly, Melkor bends lightly over him and takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with his silky scent.  
It’s an aroma game as both of them are all over their chemistry-attraction.  
Before the end, Mairon breathes irregularly as Melkor reaches his stop.

 

*** Tuesday 

The phone in his room rings.

“Yes?”, resounds Melkor’s deep voice.

“Mr. Bauglir, it’s your brother. The man said he’s your brother”, replies Mairon.

“Are you joking Mairon?!”, said it in a weird voice.

“Sorry?”

“Ok…give me the call and, then, I want you in my office in five minutes”.

Exactly five minutes later, Mairon stands before Melkor, with his learnt position to face the tempest.

“I thought I was  _clear_  about the calls from my family, especially from my brother”, starts Melkor, mad face pointed on him.

“You never mentioned it and I didn’t even know you had a brother”, explains Mairon, “One man calls to your hotline and…I have to trust him, as it’s my second day of work”.

“No-calls-from-my-family”, threatens Melkor, “And now a big huge bunch of flowers with a two lines in a card to deliver to my brother. The address is in my planner”.

“What you need to be written?”

“That’s  _your job_ , Mairon, not mine. Anyway ‘go to hell’ complies with everything”, adds Melkor, “And now out of the way before I kill you”.

Death threat, yes, but not anymore threat of dismissal. 

 

*** Evening

Predicting his move, Melkor lets Mairon step in the car tube before him. He doesn’t give him the possibility to escape, in fact he stands exactly in front of him, no more than one step from him. And, before it’s too late, Melkor places his thigh in the middle of Mairon’s thighs. 

Mairon gasps and opens his eyes widely. He looks around…in that way… in public view…but no one is paying attention to them. He grabs firmly the pole behind him, so strongly that his knuckles become white.  
He moans softly, under his breath, as Melkor is moving lightly his thigh to stimulate him. 

Melkor smirks as Mairon checks the situation around them. His moral barrier is high and active but that doesn’t impede their game. So, he presses a bit more and bends over, that day a little closer than the previous one, as he places his cheek against Mairon’s, rubbing softly their skin. 

Mairon has not the time to come, as Melkor reaches his stop and gets off the tube. 

 

*** Wednesday 

“I need two rendering perfectly done for tomorrow”, commands Melkor.

“Since when renderings are my duty?”, asks Mairon surprised.

“Since now”, replies Melkor.

 

*** Evening

Mairon is totally taken by that game, that parallel life they have in the tube.  
As they walk down the tube station, talking about work and commissions for the following days, he avoids intentionally to put his gloves on, even if he’s freezing and for sure his fingers are red as he feels pain in them. He needs his hands cold, that late evening.  
As they take their place in the car, too much closer as their habit, Mairon unlocks Melkor’s trousers and slips his hand in his undergarment. 

Melkor is surprised, nearly shocked by that passionate impulse. Mairon even not checked the situation around them before.  
He got him.  
And he smirks and trembles for Mairon’s hand is cold as ice. 

Mairon desired this since the first moment he felt his huge cock. He reaches inside with his soft and cold hand, eases him out of his underwear, and brings his balls along, too. All of this watching Melkor directly in the eyes.

He starts cupping his balls, so hot, heavy and big. Dreaming of licking them, he lets slip such a little, almost imperceptible, moan as he is rubbing with the palm of his hand at first.  
Then, he works with his fingertips creating a tickly and soft sensation. 

Melkor presses against him and catches his left earlobe in his mouth, playing with teeth with his loops. He grunts in pleasure thinking how many other piercings Mairon could have all over his body.  
As he plays, Mairon moans louder and…more than him; like that Melkor understands that Mairon is pleasuring himself more than him.

Then he whispers:

“Stop”

As he reaches his stop, just in time to lock again his trousers and gets off the tube.

 

*** Thursday evening 

Anticipation and trepidation fill the path they walk together to reach the tube. That day as every single day.  
None of them speak. They don’t need to speak as they enter another world, even if it belongs to their real everyday life. 

That day Melkor has something set aside for Mairon. Something that will pull him beyond his conscious limit. So, after entering the car, he takes his place behind Mairon. This time he doesn’t want any kind of shield for him. Mairon has to look around himself and find the pleasure in this. And also the power of doing freely what he desires. He places his hands over his shoulders and presses Mairon’s body against his. Melkor simply stands, rubbing discreetly his hardening cock - and the whole body - against Mairon’s back. 

Mairon is forced to face the whole car in front of him.  
That evening there’s more people than the previous days. That fact makes him feel uneasy but in some way also thrilled. As Melkor presses his massive body against him, he looks around and sees people turning their faces and looking away. Only one man, fifty-something, well dressed,  is minding them, enjoying the play, watching intensely and smiling to Mairon.  
Unexpectedly, Mairon bites his lip and smiles back lightly.  
And that gives him the right impulse, as he lifts and presses his ass against Melkor, to welcome his big cock once again. 

The situation drives Melkor crazy.

“Why don’t you get off with me?”, whispers Melkor in his ear, aware of the game between Mairon and the stranger.

Mairon closes his eyes and bends back his head to rest against his shoulder.

Then, he replies:

“I can’t. I have to work tomorrow and my boss gives me enough shit”, smirking softly.  
He really enjoys their parallel life. 

As Melkor gets off the subway, he gets one text message.

“He’s still watching me”.

“My naughty Mairon”, he messages back, smiling satisfied in the cold evening walk towards his apartment.

 

*** Friday 

“I want you to attend the meeting with me after lunch”, says Melkor, “as architect, also, as you did the design visualization”

“Oh”, comments Mairon, “Ok, thanks”.

 

*** Evening 

It’s Mairon who kisses him and that’s their first kiss.  
As they get in the tube car - this time almost empty because it’s very late that evening - he grabs Melkor’s black cashmere long coat’s collar and pulls him forward, like it was a leash. He whispers

“and you are mine”, as a late reply to his message, the day before.

Then, he  floods in his scent, reaching his neck even if the man is higher, standing on his tip-toes to kiss him. As Melkor gasps, he deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue inside his mouth. Then, he bites his lips, especially the bottom one, bigger than the upper one.

“I can’t wait for tomorrow”, whispers Melkor helplessly, as Mairon let him breath for a while, before claiming again what he wants.

“Oh”, replies Mairon, moaning as he’s chewing again his full lip, “I can’t tomorrow”, lies Mairon breaking the bite and rubbing sweetly his nose against Melkor’s.

“Perhaps next week”, adds Mairon, tilting his head on the side, “Perhaps”. 

And now, Mairon is playing that game with his own rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading ❤


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter three: from a game to a passion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy it ❤

***the second Monday

 

The phone in his room rings. 

“Bauglir, architectural and graphic design studio, good morning”, Mairon answers. 

“Good morning, Manwë, Sùlimo company, I need to speak with my brother but I’m getting no answer from his mobile”. 

“Mr. Bauglir is otherwise occupied”, lies Mairon, “and, today, likewise other days, his planner is full. But I would be very glad to deliver him a message from you, if it welcomes”, adds with mellow voice. 

Mairon has always considered knowledge a matter of power and control. Something that could be confused, at first glance and among people with no sharp eyes, with mere curiosity.  
Curiosity is one of the evils of the society and it goes at the same speed with its opposite, the compulsive idea of privacy. It works like so: to trigger one is to trigger also the other one, its contrary.  
Basically the difficult part is to put an end to fortress walls of privacy. It’s all about playing well the cards, and, with the right words, the victim will do the rest, in the name of curiosity.  
Mairon only needs to touch the most sensitive spot of a person. And, with Manwë, it’s not so difficult to understand _who_ is his weak spot. 

“Well, simply I need to speak with him. I would rather meet him than talk on the phone…anyway, as he prefers”, says Manwë. 

“Oh, yes, I understand perfectly”, replies Mairon with a lower tone of voice, “Mr. Bauglir told me _everything_ and really I would like that he make it up with the whole family”, lies Mairon. 

“Mr. Bauglir is a fierce pride man but I think his good sense and his love will prevail”, with soft and reassuring voice, “He only needs time”. 

“That’s a surprise to hear such heartfelt words”, comments Manwë with a sincere wonder, almost in a moved way. 

Manwë, a soft-hearted man, considers that the guy is working there since…how long? One scant week? And Melkor trusts in him so much to tell all about his family story? That’s astonishing.  
In add, Melkor felt the necessity to talk with someone, to confide about that matter, perhaps even let off steam. This is most assuredly a good sign: Melkor cares about his family and, above all, about him.  
Then, after all these thoughts, Manwë speaks like he were at the psychologist: 

“This is also my hope and I love my brother unconditionally and I don’t mind what happened in the past”, a short pause, “Well, I cannot blame my father…he’s our father, severe and grim sometimes, but only for our own sake”, he sighs heavily, “even if things are broken between them, my only desire is to find a good way just to pick up where we left off. Four years is a period too long and…I can’t stand this fighting – his fighting – no more”, ends Manwë, one step away from crying. 

Mairon almost feels pity for him.  
Almost. 

“I will do everything in my power”, replies Mairon, a little too much in the role. 

“Thank you”, replies Manwë, emotionally touched. 

Putting the phone down, Mairon feels so smug and self-satisfied; even if the whole set is not perfectly clear, now he got some extra facts about Melkor.  
Narcissist, quick to anger, huffy and vengeful.  
Definitely, his favourite sins.

 

***Evening, in the tube 

Melkor not even gives Mairon the time to step in the tube fully that he engages him in a passionate and ardent kiss. He immediately wraps his arms around Mairon, pulling him closer and pressing his body against his. Despite his pulsing need, when the tongues touch each other, he moves it gently and curiously, exploring Mairon’s tongue, playing around it, withdrawing and approaching, erotically. Then he curls his fingers around Mairon’s loose hair at the back of his head. Melkor presses his lips on his, kissing him deeply and intoxicating now, breathing his scent, his soft and silky scent, urgently. 

Mairon moans in contentment and presses his body in answer, placing his hands on his buttocks. Then he squeezes them, not so softly, enjoying the grip on that strong ass. 

Melkor feels himself sinking into him while Mairon grabs his ass and their tongues are playing with each other: 

“I want you so bad”, whispers Melkor in his ear, “come to me”. 

Honestly, it’s not easy for Mairon to break those kisses but the game, his game, is too important.  
Mairon steps back, with a wicked smirk on his lips and lightning eyes. 

“Do you hear yourself? You are ridiculous”, provokes Mairon. 

Melkor’s face changes immediately, from a tempting to a darkly expression. His pupils shrink in size as he opens them widely; his breath is heavier as he is hit by a crescent fury rising from his stomach; he stares angrily at him, trembling lightly with rage. He would punch him in the face until the younger guy asks for forgiveness for his insolence.  
Now he’s doing the only one thing he can do.  
He is embracing and kissing Mairon madly, again, as he turns all that wrath into carnality for their own pleasure. 

Mairon smiles in satisfaction while the man ravages his lips. He lets him do it, with a tiny moan of bliss.  
After all, he totally owns Melkor. 

 

***the second Tuesday 

 

There’s nothing in the scene before him that could provoke a so big rage; yet the view of his assistant laughing sweetly with the head of his security system arouses this effect over him.  
Melkor pretends that everything is normal, passing by them. 

“Good morning, Mr. Bauglir”, greets Mairon. 

“Morning, boss”, says Gothmog. 

Melkor nods without a word. 

“Good start!”, whispers Gothmog to Mairon. 

Mairon smiles amusingly to Gothmog before starting to follow Melkor. He grants five minutes to him before knocking at his office door: 

“Mr. Bauglir, I need ten minutes of your time”. 

This news cheers Melkor up, magically. 

“Because of tomorrow’s deadline, before sending the projects, I would crosscheck with you the changes I did yesterday. I’ve notice some serious inaccuracies so I’ve fixed them”. 

Melkor has learnt that, in general, with the term ‘serious inaccuracy’, Mairon refers to things not even remotely classifiable as errors, something that only Mairon may consider as fault. 

Mairon puts his portable on Melkor’s desk, then he takes the seat on the opposite side, placing it next to Melkor’s. He inserts the pen drive before sitting next to him.  
Melkor tactfully observes him in broad daylight. He has already noticed how many lovely freckles Mairon has on his cheeks but not the elegant beauty mark on the upper corner of the lip. He feels the urge to kiss it. 

“This is the first”, says Mairon. 

“I don’t see any difference”, comments Melkor, putting off his eyeglasses. 

“This means I’ve done perfectly the work”, replies drily Mairon, “This is the second”. 

Melkor now is studying his long lashes that gently frame his hazel eyes. 

“And the third”, a little pause, turning his head to face him, “Honestly, I was expecting something better from you, Mr. Bauglir, for the Angband project”. 

Finally, his sentence catches Melkor’s attention. 

“This was not in the USB”, says Melkor halfway between surprised and angry, “You’ve taken it from my laptop. You, little bastard, how did you get it?” 

“I’ve my secrets”, says Mairon with a hint of personal delight. 

“I’m feeding a viper”, comments Melkor. 

“Don’t shift the focus from the project. You’re doing something that is under your head, Mr. Bauglir”. 

“You don’t have any competence about it”, says Melkor with anger in his deep voice, “and not even you are allowed to work on that”, pointing his finger at him. 

With his natural calm and elegance, Mairon stands up, pushes away his seat with his foot, grabs the armrests of Melkor’s chair to turn him of 90°, to face him properly.  
Mairon places his knee in the middle of Melkor’s thighs, exactly at the base of his balls and presses lightly against them; then, he bends over Melkor: their scent wrap each other up and his loose hair tickles Melkor’s back of hands. 

“I’ve spent at least two years of my life studying obsessively your works, _Melkor_ ” pressing his knee a bit harder. 

Melkor gasps. 

“I’m the only one on this earth who knows perfectly your way of working”, he adds with flames in his eyes, “If I say that this project is criminally under your possibility this means that I-know-what-I’m-talking-about”. 

What happens after is outside Melkor’s reason, as he grabs and pushes forward Mairon’s hips to unfasten his trousers and the lower part of his white shirt with quick fingers. 

Mairon smiles naughtily while Melkor breaks heatedly the first rule he personally set up even before hiring him. That’s half of the pleasure.  
One fourth is to see how Melkor is insanely kissing and sucking the skin of his lower abdomen, so hard and in such a way that for sure he will have hickeys late in the evening.  
The last fourth is to see how Melkor trails tiny kisses starting from his navel, focusing all around that elegant double navel piercing, to eventually reach his groin while his fingers work to lower his undergarment. 

Melkor’s mind has another power cut as he sees Mairon’s hardening cock. Nonchalant way, Melkor wraps his well-shaped lips around the tip of his shaft; he moans in pleasure using hand and lips together, licking the little drop of precum that leaks after a little while. 

Mairon would play with Melkor’s mouth for at least fifteen minutes in many different ways but…well, that’s not the right location and they don’t have so much time; so he bites back a moan while his fingers slide between Melkor’s hair to reach his scalp. 

In answer Melkor purrs under his sweet touch and starts bobbing his head up and down, freeing his hands only to grab Mairon’s buttocks in a needy way: his skin is so wonderfully soft. 

Mairon fucks Melkor’s mouth a bit roughly as the architect deserves this treatment, pulling him firmly by the hair, until a violent pleasure tears through him as he comes; he tilts back his head and moans lightly and sensually as he spills his seed inside his hot cavity. 

Swallowing around it, Melkor moans languidly too as he feels Mairon’s hot cum in his throat, feeling satisfied like never before.Licking the corners of his mouth, Melkor watches him, who is still beautifully with closed eyes and head tilted back.  So he kisses again his lower belly lightly.  
In few moments, his assistant has again his done up aspect while he’s putting his shirt right and fastening again his trousers. 

“I’ll get your coffee before I come back at my desk, Mr. Bauglir”, says Mairon, “On Thursday you have the survey for the Angband project, so I will come with you, of course” ends Mairon, leaving his office, giving him no time to reply. 

“Before I forget it”, entering again Melkor’s room with a strong coffee in hand, “how we are going to Angband?” 

Melkor smirks.

 

***Evening, in the tube 

“Going to dream about me tonight?”, whispers Melkor in Mairon’s ear as he caresses his hair. 

“Absolutely not”, replies Mairon. 

“Maybe my mouth only”, giving little pecks on his cheek, “you will miss me, when you check my passion marks on your groin”. 

Mairon smirks. 

“You were so good in my mouth”, whispers Melkor, “I want to taste you again”, biting lightly his earlobe, “What happens if I miss my stop and I come home with you?” 

“That you are going to spend the night naked, in silence but without sleeping, on your knees on my bedside rug”. 

Melkor licks his lips: “Promise me. I suffer of insomnia, as you know”.

“I’ve changed my mind. I keep the details but outside my entrance door with a leash”. 

Melkor kisses him softly on the lips before getting off the tube’s car. 

 

***the second Wednesday

 

Mairon sits arms crossed, head tilted, left eyebrow raised, biting the soft skin inside the cheek over and over again.  
It was a bright idea to disguise a date as a working lunch.  
If Mairon wasn’t so irked, he would admire him. 

Two hours before happened that Melkor announced that they had to take part to a meeting during lunch. That sounded strange as in his planner there were no notes, not even two lines about that, but, in their work, these things happen often: to switch dates, cancel or change appointment at the last minute. Naïvely Mairon didn’t ask anything about the order of the day for he was too busy with some papers to request details. He will never forgive himself for a so gross error and lack of judgement.  
Now Melkor sits across the table from him, smiling proudly, fulfilled with his sudden inspiration, pouring the full-bodied red wine into Mairon’s glass. 

“You, liar”, says Mairon. 

Melkor’s smirk widens: “This is a working lunch and I’m not going to tolerate your back talks further”. 

“Why we are having a lunch together – and I would like to point out that we are in a luxury lounge bar – if we could simply discuss that _so important matter_ in your office instead? By the way, I have not had yet the pleasure of understanding which is that important matter”, utters Mairon. 

“Easy to explain. I’m the boss, _your boss_ , and you simply do you work”, replies Melkor, turning upwards the corners of his mouth in a grimace of pleasure, “That is _to obey me_ ”, making it clear changing the tone in his voce. 

But they’re interrupted right away as a waitress comes to take their order. 

“I’ll have a blue rare steak, almost blood dripping, with a side of rucola“, says Melkor. 

“The same for me, the steak served with lemon”, orders Mairon. 

“And so”, starts Melkor, when they are alone again, fixing his eyes on Mairon, “Angband”. 

Mairon is unmoved. 

“I know you’re dying but you’re acting like you don’t care”, says Melkor. 

Mairon tilts his head on the other side. 

“I’m asking for your opinion”, declares Melkor. 

Mairon sips his wine keeping eyes contact: "The wine is good", he replies. 

“I need you, Mairon”, ends Melkor, biting his lower lip so harshly to cause pain to himself. 

“See, now we're being smart”, finally Mairon speaks, imaging how it had to be hard for Melkor to confess that simple thing. 

“I’m the first one to not be satisfied, not at all with it. It’s all so nebulous in my mind”, says Melkor. 

“Well”, starts Mairon, “There’s too much of Utumno in your project. You’ve already done Utumno…clear your mind up and create something different. I think tomorrow will be your smoking gun: checking the area, the vibe, raw materials and so on”. 

“That was exactly my thought”, comments Melkor. 

“Perhaps it’s too easy for me to speak because I’ve never done something like Utumno: I don’t know what is the meaning of creating such an immense masterpiece”, says Mairon putting his glass on the table, “Of course, I can image that you put every single cell of your being in Udûn, undoubtedly it’s a part of you now, but”, a little pause, “what I’ve seen it’s not enough for such a grand project”, stops again Mairon. 

“That’s the fact. I need another point of view and it will be you the designer. Following my directives, of course. I need your mind-set for I know you’ve understood my background, my way of thinking as architect”, says Melkor firmly. 

“I will help you”, says Mairon, nodding lightly with his head, “That’s my job, as you said, and”, a little pause, “it would be my personal pleasure”, giving a suggestion of a very sweet, imperceptible smile. 

That’s the first time that Mairon smiles to him, for him. In that way. A fragile smile, that talks about Mairon as a person: his soul, his mind and his inner world.  
And Melkor understands he’s in need of that little and so rare smile of him. 

 

***Evening, in the tube

 

“By the way”, exclaims Melkor, “I expected to find some piercings down there”. 

Mairon looks at him in bewilderment. 

“That’s the point. You expected it. This means it would be a predictable thing and”, Mairon gives him a little peck on his lips, “there’s nothing interesting in expected things”. 

“Anyway…you’re still thinking about it?”, adds Mairon, “it’s you who have dreams about me during night”. 

“You turn me on constantly”, kissing his temple. 

“Listen, what about tomorrow morning?”, without hiding a light smirk. 

Melkor breaths his hair’s scent deeply before answer. 

“I’ll pick you up at your apartment. About 8:30”, says Melkor, as he reaches his stop. 

 

***the second Thursday 

 

“Well”, says Melkor, as they check that vast desolated land, which is the ground of Angband project, “I mean the feeling in that project, something that should be spiritual also. Sometimes I like to compare the spiritual part with the atmosphere, the suggestion of emotion”. 

“Not easy to put that little seed, the emotion, that will flourish inside the viewer”, comments Mairon. 

Melkor closes his eyes and breaths out heavily. 

“I’ve always been fascinated by the contextual spirit. And from that way of thinking I have developed my working way of taking in account the context of a project, taking all parts in consideration. But always partially, never absolutely”, speaks Melkor, “And from that fact I would like to start. To find out or catch the identity and soul from and based on the context. So”, a little pause, “to find out the identity from the context or catch the spirit of the context”, ends Melkor opening again his eyes. 

“I don’t know if I’m clear”, Melkor adds turning his head to Mairon. 

“Perfectly”, answers Mairon with eyes lost at the horizon, “The spirit of the context. Contextual spirit or soul intent in the suggestion of atmosphere. So the viewer is free in his interpretation, without betraying the aim of the artist. In one word, a genesis of hermeneutics applied to a structural architecture”. 

“I could not explain it better”, smiles Melkor, trying to image the whole construction in his mind. 

 

***Evening, in Melkor’s car

 

The huge smirk painted on his face makes Mairon thinking about platitudes.  
Big car, high speed: sense of power, vigour and strength; the most effective means of non-verbal communication.  
Everything suitable for Melkor and his vanity. 

Now, Mairon considers that he could depress him in one second, only with mention of his brother’s name, telling, then, about the call and the interesting exchange they had on Monday morning.  
Or, as an alternative, he simply could make the day even more profitable and his boss even more satisfied. 

The day was productive and stimulating. They had a deep and involving transfer of ideas and conceptual perspectives, thing that happened seldom (to not say ‘never’) in his past work experiences.  
So Mairon opts for the second choice.  
As Melkor’s car speeds along the highway, touching 150 km/h, Mairon unfastens his belt and, then, Melkor’s belt. 

“What the fuck are you doing?”, growls Melkor, as the belt scratches his neck by the automatic thrusting. 

Mairon turns his head and bends over him, to place his chin on Melkor’s right shoulder: 

“Now, Mr. Bauglir, keep your eyes glued on the street, if you want to live”, kissing lightly his earlobe. 

His scent. God, his scent.  
Mairon breathes deeply, hungrily, as if his life depends on it, while he trails kisses to reach his neck.  
And at exactly the same time his fingers work to unlace his trousers. 

“I would enjoy to take your balls in my mouth but, well, in this sports car it’s impossible”, teases Mairon, “I'll deal with it”, slipping his hand in his undergarment. 

Melkor simply groans in answer, spreading a bit his legs to welcome Mairon’s hand that eases out his cock, making it harder under his stimulation. Then, the younger man wraps his fingers around the base of it.  
It’s so hard to keep the eyes opened, to stay focused while he’s driving. But that’s the game and he loves how Mairon is running it.  
He cannot close his eyes but he can open slightly his mouth to breath out. 

“I want you to come hard in my throat”, says Mairon, while he’s thinking that Melkor’s cock is bigger than he could fit into his mouth in its fullness, especially at that car condition. He has not so much space to give him a fully well-done blowjob, so he decides to use his lips and tongue, until Melkor cannot take it anymore of all that sucking on the sensitive tip.  
Mairon’s lips wrap his cock’s head, sucking lightly at it, moaning in pleasure to tease him even further. 

Melkor shivers frantically, asking himself how to keep a respectable behaviour; he doesn’t want to give so much power to Mairon, he doesn’t want Mairon to understand how he’s dying for it.  
But it’s too late as Melkor speaks, half screamed half moaned: 

“Take it whole in your fucking mouth” 

Mairon smiles: he’s doing it well. So he continues pressing his tongue into the underside of the head, moving quickly over the slit; there he sucks lightly, sticking the tip of his tongue into the meatus, so tempted to suck the two drops of his precum. 

Melkor groans noisily placing his right hand on Mairon’s head, to push him further, to stimulate him, to force him to take his big cock in his mouth.  
But Mairon is playing with his own rules, so he chases Melkor’s hand away. 

That fact makes Mairon to slow down to punish him, using only his wet lips, pressing them on the whole head, sucking slowly, pulling more moans form Melkor’s lips. 

Melkor doesn’t give up, as he starts to lift his groin upwards. But Mairon’s answer comes almost instantly, as he lifts his head, releasing his cock from that hot, wet and silky grip. 

“Fuck”, growls Melkor. 

“You want to come?”, asks Mairon. 

Melkor screams pathetically “Yes”, hating himself for his weakness. 

“So stay still”, commands the younger man. 

Melkor gives up grunting loudly as his cock painfully protests the sudden lack of stimulation. 

Feeling Melkor’s body’s surrender to his will with his hips well-grounded to the seat and his thighs rigid for the strain, Mairon, slowly but intensely, sucks again, and fully this time, moving sensually his lips and using his tongue, sliding it around the tip with every single suck. 

It doesn’t take so long to Melkor to come as he screams and swears a free flow of shameless ‘Fuck’, almost in hatred.  
He cannot enjoy his afterglow profusely and that idea could turn him on again. 

Mairon swallows his whole load and then he whispers in Melkor’s ear: 

“So good boy, we are still alive”, licking properly his own lips. 

 

***the second Friday, in the tube 

 

Melkor is observing him, as close as their bodies allowed it.  
The younger guy took him in body, with an uncontrollable and incontrovertible play of chemistry. And in his mind, with ferocious answers and wicked remarks. But always in truth. In adds, Mairon enjoys humiliating him whenever he can, mostly sexually.  
And his smile.  
Melkor finds himself loving that smile he saw only once. 

Melkor touches lightly with his fingertip the beauty mark on the corner of his lips, that one he noticed two days before. Then, he speaks: 

“This is beautiful”, looking at that spot intently, “and it’s like you. Tiny, discrete, electrifying and sensual. When one notices it, it’s impossible to live without it”, kissing it sweetly. 

Mairon listens to his words in silence. Melkor’s soft, hot and well-shaped lips are caressing the corner of his upper lip, exactly on the point of his mole.  
And he smiles; his light and imperceptible smile paints his lips in a vivid red. Also his eyes are smiling, as he feels a hot wave shaking him from the inside, thing that makes his nipples hard.  
That erotic and chaotic man. 

Melkor catches his smile and catches everything in a glimpse, feeling also his pulse and tension under his body.  
Even if they're playing the hand that they play, caught in the game they made almost accidentally, he understands that what he sees it’s not what's underneath.  
And he tries, he tries with all the sweetness he is able to: 

“Goodnight”, kissing sweetly his forehead, rubbing his nose against Mairon’s. And, before leaving, he brushes his hand on his soft cheek. 

‘ _Stay_ ’, Mairon would whispers, watching his body form walking away from him as Melkor reached his stop. 

And Mairon knows that the rules are changed again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you curious about the dialog between Mairon and Gothmog?  
> Nothing important, anyway.
> 
> G: Hey there. Mairon, right? Last week I was busy with extra matters so we didn't meet. Congratulation! You got the job!  
> M: Oh, thank you. Well, actually I searched for you, to thank you also, but they told me you had a kind of review week.  
> G: Yeah, boring stuff. How do you feel? How was your first week?  
> M: Not so bad. It takes time to understand how to manage but that's good, I feel at home.  
> G: In onlyone week? Wow. And - whispering - how is with the great boss?  
> M: Well, let's say he is... easily changeable. But we've already reached the tollerance point. In a positive way. Anyway, I feel like I have a debit with you. In such way you helped me a lot as your suggestions were exactly what I needed.  
> G: Good! I like alcholic aperitives so.. When you want I'm always free for it!  
> M: Please, be my guest! - says Mairon laughting sweetly. 
> 
> There Melkor approaches.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from a passion to an addiction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First: I just want to thank [shackal-jackal](http://shackal-jackal.tumblr.com)  
> who was sooo kind to draw for me a picture for this fic to do a little surprise to you all!  
> You will find her super drawing during the reading! ❤❤❤  
> Second: I would like to not stop writing this fic. I'm lost in it.  
> Third: I hope you enjoy this new chapter. I know its a bit hard to read and there are mixed feelings inside it. Also for me It was hard to write.  
> Thank you!

*** Saturday 

Melkor spent almost the Friday night - damn insomnia - thinking how he could insinuate himself in Mairon’s private life. Despite of what happened in the tube – or in his car – the younger man seems not to be willing of letting him enter his life. 

Mairon spent a couple of hours of his Friday’s night meditating about the situation for he felt baffled and shaken by how his mind reacted to Melkor’s words in the tube that late Friday.  
So, when he reads the two messages on Saturday in the afternoon, he thinks that the architect is handing him on a plate the possibility to make it clear, once and for all, how things should be, how things should run between them.  
If the game has to turn into something different, as he already had plenty proofs of it, Mairon simply demands the full control over it.  
Well, at work Melkor is the boss, the master, the starchitect; and with good reasons as Mairon has only to learn and drink from his cup, infinitely. So Melkor may scream and yell at him as long as he wants; he may act and behave displaying a greater number of toxic, narcissistic and vain traits. But, outside that world, things has to be set in a different way for he’s not going to be an accessory in Bauglir’s life: expensive attic, sports car, young and eager boyfriend with perfect ass. Not even he is going to fulfilling his needs or serving a purpose for him. On the contrary, it will be exactly the opposite.  
The architect gave him the evidence of being reluctant to accept the submissive role; thing that is abundantly understandable as he is used to rule over people, even in family apparently as his brother, Manwë, seems to be completely wrapped around his finger. 

‘What are you doing?’, texts Melkor with a huge effort, because he’s not used to ask anything but only take what he wants. 

Mairon is playing that game, the one in which one person simply gets the message, reads it but acts like it never happened. He’s making him wait around.  
Or, better to say, this is what Melkor thinks. So, three hours later, Melkor tries again: 

‘Flavourless attitude, Mairon’ 

‘What you mean?’, Mairon texts back, at some point in the afternoon, when he remembers to have a phone. 

‘Pretending of ignoring me’ 

‘Always self-obsessed. Actually I really did it with no intention as I’ve just read your messages. I’m busy’, followed by a picture some seconds after.

 

‘A cat’, answers Melkor. And that was the fact: for a cat, Melkor was ignored because of a cat. 

‘I found it in the morning. I think he’s not older than three months’

‘Are you keeping it?’

‘I think so’ 

‘Name?’ , asks Melkor, not really caring as he hates cats. 

‘Well…I got many ideas but still working on them’ 

‘I’m good with names…let me try. Teufel’ 

‘Not that bad but it’s a bit heavy for a cat’ 

‘I just tried’ 

‘I’ll work on it’, then ‘Anyway, what you want?’ 

‘Hang out with me’, torturing his bottom lip as he’s waiting for the answer. 

‘I’m not in need of a boring evening in a luxury lounge bar talking about work’ 

‘I would suggest a more pleasant alternative’ 

‘I would suggest that you have to worth it’. 

To worth it.

Tsk.

Melkor starts tipping. 

‘If you think you are so important in my life you’re dead wrong as I don’t give a fucking fuck of you’. 

Melkor deletes the draft and throws the phone on the cough.  
That little insolent and arrogant put an end to Melkor’s attempt, sadly failed, granting him a bad mood for the whole week-end. 

 

*** the third Monday

 

That Monday the good fortune assists Mairon with two events.  
By chance it happens that Mairon answer to the phone in the exact moment in which Melkor – still pissed off for the reply he got last Saturday and serious about getting pay back at him – passes through the younger man’s open space to reach his office. 

“Bauglir, architectural and graphic design studio, good morning”, Mairon answers, nodding at the same time to greet his boss. 

“Oh yes”, Mairon continues, “I’m terribly sorry to not have news about the development of that matter”. 

Sentence that catches Melkor’s attention immediately: if there’s something that is not running efficiently in his studio he has to know it. 

“Yes, I understand and you’re welcome as it doesn’t bother me at all ”, continues Mairon with a very kind tone of voice. 

Silence. 

“I’ve been working tirelessly on that but I need time to get something…effective”, replies Mairon with his husky voice. 

Silence again. 

“Well, it might be useful if we keep in contact, for example, by our personal contacts”.

The man on the phone speaks. 

“Perfect, I take notes”, says Mairon, writing on a paper note. 

Silence. 

“Thank you, I will connect you as soon as I get a positive answer from the situation”, trying hard to not say too much in front of Melkor. 

“So?”, asks Melkor as soon as Mairon hangs up. 

“Nothing important”. 

“No, well, you got a personal contact…you are so kind with all the customers?”. 

Is that jealousy in his voice? 

“That was a matter with personal consequence. Purposely I required a numbers exchange as I don’t…” 

“Well, the personal calls are probably a little uncool”, Melkor interrupts him with annoyed voice, “I wouldn't have expected that from you, Mairon”. 

“I could say the same about your messages last Saturday, Mr. Bauglir”, provokes Mairon with his natural and charming calm. 

“We were not working” 

 “It was your brother”, explains Mairon with the intention of making him furious. 

“My brother? And what is the matter with him?”. 

“Apparently”, replies Mairon using a sentence already heard, “We share the same passion”, smirking wide, “Now, I suppose, we’ll have no need to connect each other during working hours”. 

It cannot be.  
His brother, a married man, having an affair with him? No, it cannot be. Melkor doesn’t know if he feels mad furious because of the fact in itself or because the fact regards his brother and his assistant. So he approaches Mairon’s desk to check the number that Mairon wrote down.  
Essentially, Mairon didn’t lie. 

“No personal calls on company time”, ends Melkor with a little mental distress in his face. 

That Monday is so hard for him; Melkor not even got the possibility to reestablish his superior image and his narcissists self-esteem into evening that Gothmog’s voice, from Mairon’s place, opens fire against him. 

“Any idea where to go?”, Gothmog asks Mairon. 

“Not really, I’m not the kind of guy that knows about good places for cocktails”, says Mairon. 

“There’s a cool place not so far from here with rich appetizer”, replies Gothmog, “With a very good price one gets drunk with free food!”. 

“I’m considering it for a new life style”, smiles Mairon. 

“Yeah, why stay at home if you can get that!”, laughs Gothmog, “Anyway, we take my car and I drive you home after”. 

“Oh”, says Mairon, “Very kind of you”. 

When, two hours later, as soon as their working day is off, Mairon informs his boss that, that day, he has in plan something different and, for that reason, he’s not going to take the tube with him,  Melkor sucks it up and acts as if nothing is happening.  
He really would punch Mairon in the face. 

 

***Tuesday 

“So”, tries to chat up in awkward way Melkor, as he glances quickly at the little portion of Mairon’s skin in sight near the neck collar, “How is the cat?”, endorsing some redtape documents at the same time. 

“Tevildo”, replies immediately Mairon, handing another paper over him, “Tevildo is fine”, smiling with satisfaction thinking about his funny and lovely cat. 

“Tevildo”, says Melkor in real surprise, “I got a kind of influence on that matter, at least”. 

“As I said, ”, points out Mairon, “The idea was not that bad. And it suits for a black cat”, handing him the last paper and placing all of them into the folder. 

“Before the lunch break”, announces Mairon as he reaches the chair at Melkor’s desk, “we have to plan a review of the whole archive”, watching seriously his boss. 

“What’s the problem with it?”, asks Melkor while he quickly has a glance at the other side of Mairon’s neck. 

“ _The_ _problem_?”, emphasises Mairon, “Right, only one: it’s impossible to find anything there”. 

“I’ve always found what I’ve searched for”, rebuts Melkor. 

“That’s why you live perfectly in your chaotic mind but not me. Giving that I have to picks paperworks up from there, they have to be set with my solution”,  ends Mairon. 

 “So”, starts again Mairon checking both Melkor’s planners, “I would opt for Thursday as you don’t have any appointments for that day”, asserting more than asking. 

“Have I my say in that matter?” 

“No”, ends Mairon, up out of the chair to leave the room. 

***Tuesday, in the tube 

If Melkor carefully planned to trap him in his arms with a good dose of possession mixed to pleasure and sweetness to clarify the situation about all those men around his life, maybe he got it badly wrong. 

As they step into the car, Mairon grabs him – that huge and strong man – by his collar and slams him against the most near car’s corner.  
Melkor lets out a gasp after that sudden movement, feeling pain to his back, also a little in shock as he didn’t foresee such a reaction from Mairon. 

All the eyes in their car are fixed upon them, how it’s easy to image. Mairon not even thinks twice before kissing Melkor passionately, sliding in a wicked way the tongue inside his mouth. The crowd looks away as the general hope of attending to a fight is sadly betrayed. 

Melkor hugs him pressing Mairon’s body against his, hands on his ass, moving unequivocally as he was fucking him, grunting with pleasure feeling Mairon’s growing arousal in the middle of his legs. 

But Mairon cannot accept it, not at that point. So he intensifies the kiss as his fingers work to unfasten Melkor’s trousers, claiming again the control; then, while he wraps his elegant hand around his erect length, he takes with teeth Melkor’s bottom lips biting harshly, until Melkor gasps and squeaks. Taste of blood in both their mouths.  
And Mairon speaks looking straight into his eyes, moving his hand with regular and firm strokes, massaging the cock from the base to the tip: 

“You are my victim”, giving him a little peck on the lips stained a little with blood, “and that’s all”. 

“You, _you_ are mine, Mairon”, says Melkor, as he clutches him by the hair at his nape. 

“No, it’s you who are mine”, kissing sweetly his nose, “And I do what I want with you”, increasing the speed of the strokes, “you know why?”. 

Melkor stays in silence, breathing heavily half in anger half in lust, a step or two from coming. 

“Because you will never be free from me”, stopping the strokes and tracing the thick nerve on the upper side of the shaft with his thumb, “And, without me, you will never be safe”, getting back with strokes intensely, “because you are weak and you will beg for my love until the end of the week”. 

Melkor would reply he has never begged in his whole life but he comes so hard that his legs barely support him.  
And the view of Mairon’ spectacle of licking and swallowing his cum up, sliding his tongue between his fingers and on his palm as it was a natural fact, doesn’t help him to get the intellect back. 

As he walks toward his apartment, it’s not the sticky and cold mess in his underpants that gives troubles to Melkor. But the chaos in his mind.  
If he would describe his present situation in one word, he could only use the term ‘addiction’. 

 

***Wednesday 

Mairon enters his office holding two big cups of strong and steaming coffee. He places Melkor’s cup on his desk, before him. The other cup is set exactly on the other side of his desk, in front of him.  
Then, Mairon reaches the door again to close and lock it. 

“This is called kidnapping, Mairon”, comments Melkor. 

But the younger man is not going to be accountable to him, as he totally ignores Melkor’s words and keeps on with his plan.  
So he reaches again his boss desk, set the interphone with the red light and put “occupied” on the phone line, directing all the potential calls to the switchboard. 

Melkor patiently puts up with it, little by little he’s becoming used to all Mairon’s weird things. So, he puts off his eyeglasses, takes his cup and enjoys the most perfect coffee of the whole planet, enjoying also the view of his assistant. Usually Mairon’s hair is styled in a tail but today it’s flowing. He’s even more sexy.  
Thirty seconds later, finally Mairon sits in the chair in front of him, steaming cup in the hand, sipping his coffee, watching his boss inquisitively. 

“Don’t expect a pay rise”, comments again Melkor with irony, but not so much. 

“Talking about payment”, starts Mairon, “It’s 120 per hour”. A little pause, as he takes another sip from the coffee. Then he stalls for some seconds, studying his face in silence with a light smirk on his lips.

But Melkor is impassive, his mind inscrutable and Mairon cannot catch his thoughts. 

“But I’m not going to take notes or giving you hankies while you cry like a little baby”, continues Mairon. 

 “Are you going crazy? What are you talking about?”, asks Melkor, having had of all that insolence in his office. 

“About you, Melkor” 

Melkor breaths out loudly and squirms lightly in his chair, with a taut face and an evident sight of insecurity. 

“Feel free to correct me or improve my story any time”, continues Mairon. 

“Once upon a time there was a parent, personally I would say a father, who offered to his two children to build up a life with no real substance”, starts Mairon, eyes glued on Melkor’s face. 

“This parent wanted them to be great, so he could be the parent of two great people, probably a longing for something missing in his own life”, Mairon continues, “Anyway, smartest students at first, as a good start; after, for the first born a creative career, as designer and architect, the most famous of his time; for the second born he planned a managerial career, as the most influent executive director of the biggest flight company of the land…just to give two casual examples”, a little pause as Mairon takes another sip, without taking his eyes off Melkor’s face. 

“The parent in question was, and probably still is, so obsessed with this idea that he spent his whole life making his two sons competing between them, in such a way that they ended up hating themselves. Probably this happened very early in their youth”, adds Mairon a little pensive, “and the most genial thing was that the parent – or the father as your eyes confirmed my supposition already – covered this slimy aim with the idea of love. So, the two sons fought the whole life to conquer their father’s love”. 

Mairon takes another sip before placing his cup on the desk. Then he continues with his psychological torture: 

“A love that doesn’t exist but for sure ruined their lives. Often, I think, the two sons were neglected, as the children were only useful to that parent when they were serving a purpose for him or simply gratifying him”, moving his hand toward the air in a wavy movement, “It happened also that the parent alternated between emotional hunger toward the children and disinterest. Mostly the second one, in my opinion”, crossing his legs. 

“Well, normally the child develops a strong component of the anti-self, made up of extremely self-hating; but, in that case, the fact of being in two, deflected the hate against the other – the brother – keeping the “parent image” pure and untouched”. 

Melkor’s bottom lip is trembling and he’s breathing heavy. There’s nothing more worst than being laid bare psychologically by the guy who gave you a blow the previous week, that is your assistant, that is a perfect stranger. 

“In conclusion, I would say that every family is difficult. I myself escaped from mine as soon as I could. Sometimes some families are _more_ difficult. But this doesn’t mean that one cannot be happy and safe and loved in the true way”, Mairon takes again the cup from the desk, “But that implies that the person in question has to become free from the “perverted part of him”, then dedicate and research love for himself”, Mairon ends. 

Mairon has no words but only one to describe Melkor’s face: pain. Even if he doesn’t feel guilty, he feels embittered.  
But, after all, suffering is only a path and, in its essence, necessary. 

“Now I leave you at your thought, Mr. Bauglir”, then, with a tiny, sweet and empathetic smile he adds: “If you need me, you find me at my desk”. 

 

***Wednesday, in the tube

 

Melkor stands so close to him; even if it happens every day, that day is different.  
His expression is heavy, maybe a bit gloomy, but always proud and imperious. Mairon is testing him in the most difficult way, almost daily. He doesn’t speak, he stares at Mairon with lost eyes that travel around Mairon’s face: his lips, his lovely mole, the tiny freckles, his hazel and sharp eyes. 

Mairon observes his boss. He’s not sure about what Melkor is thinking; of course he would know the uncountable thoughts that are crossing his mind at that moment but, honestly, it’s not so difficult to image them. So he decides to stay in silence; he undoes the first buttons on his coat and hugs him tightly, sinking into his rich scent, pressing his face against his clothed chest, feeling his heartbeats calm and regular. 

Melkor places his cheek against the top of his head. His hair is soft and the scent is heavenly. Even he feels pain for things he would not recall and bring back, Mairon gives him a kind of comfort or understanding. He doesn’t know how to describe that sensation but for sure it’s heartwarming and enveloping. 

Before letting him get off the car, Mairon stands on his toes and kisses him on his lips, a soft and gentle peck: 

“See you tomorrow”, he whispers. 

And Melkor realises that Mairon is the only one person who really cared about him. 

 

***Thursday

 

Melkor started thinking that Mairon intentionally planned that whole boring archive day only to give them the possibility to spend time together – qualitative time, as Mairon himself would describe it -  after what happened the day before. And he got a kind of confirm in his words. 

“You also may notice that groups of records are subdivided into series, and series are further subdivided into files. Not only does this hierarchical organization make things easier to find, but it also often reflects the way I structure business and sometimes also life. Of course everything is classified in years”. 

And Melkor speaks, as he needs to speak, not with anybody but only with Mairon. 

“On one thing you were wrong”, Melkor starts. 

“That is?”, asks immediately Mairon. 

“No one took decisions on my career: my father’s plan was different; I choose freely and probably it has been my first and free choice” 

“We have to start from some points” 

“Was my brother to tell you the story?” 

“I’ve never met your brother, not even I’ve seen a picture of him”. Mairon answers reading between the lines. 

Melkor feels over the moon. 

“You were almost right about the whole line. Basically you guessed” 

“I don’t need to guess” 

“Ok, keep your secrets for you”, a little pause, “What happened to you?”. 

Mairon rises his gaze from the archive folders in surprise, as he didn’t expect that Melkor would develop a not-narcissistic cognitive component in only one night; apparently he did it and , apparently, he thought wrong about Melkor. 

“A natural and genuine sense of rebellion, nothing less nothing more”, smiles Mairon. 

Melkor loves when Mairon smiles. 

“Go on” 

“That’s not so interesting” 

“Only child?” 

“Yes” 

“In such way it’s a fortune”, comments Melkor. 

“Not really”, reproaches Mairon, “Especially if you don’t have friends and you have a compulsive-obsessed toxic mom”. 

“How did you managed with it?” 

“Cats and misanthropy”, replies Mairon. 

Melkor can’t help but bursts out laughing. 

“But that’s true”, protests Mairon, smiling softly looking at his boss. 

“My father loves cats”, comments Melkor as he admires Mairon’s smile. 

“That’s why you hate cats!” 

“I don’t hate cats! It’s more like…a kind of…I just hate cats”, confirms Melkor, “Hey, where we go for lunch?”, tries Melkor to invite him, checking the clock. The moment is too perfect for not try. 

“Nowhere, Mr. Bauglir”, he replies locking him in a tight embrace, kissing him with hunger and in a heady way; at the same time he presses his body against Melkor’s, forcing him in the closer corner of the archive room. 

Melkor gasps in surprise as he really didn’t expected something like that. He doesn’t know how he finds himself pressed against the wall, while his assistant is violating his mouth, literally. He doesn’t respond after, he lets Mairon do what he pleases. He just looks at him, smiling as the younger man plays with his tongue with eyes shut. 

“Lock the door”, says Melkor as soon as Mairon lets him breath. 

But Mairon doesn’t move alone, he takes with him his boss towards the door. He doesn’t want to break those kisses, he doesn’t want to split their bodies. 

Melkor smiles wide between one kiss and another as he feels Mairon’s hands that drag him on his suit. As they walk, he runs his hands through his coppery hair to release it from his band. It’s different when Mairon’s hair is loose.  
They ends up on the opposite corner, near the door. 

There Mairon works to unfasten quickly Melkor’s trousers that comes off very easily along with his pants, leaving Melkor half-naked. He doesn’t waste time kneeling down to play in the way he desires.  
Looking into Melkor’s eyes, Mairon starts cupping his balls in his hand. 

“Oh, that’s what I’ve dreamt for long”, teases Mairon. 

He strokes lightly them with the fingers and Melkor starts to moan lightly for that pleasant stimulation. But his moans become more intense when Mairon grabs his buttocks and puts the whole right testicle in his mouth, playing with the tongue, licking it pleasantly. 

“Wonderful”, he whispers, his hot breath against Melkor’s wet skin, before licking it again. 

Then, he moves around the other one to suck and tug it, slowly and gently, using only his lips this time. 

Melkor groans loudly as Mairon places two tiny pecks on each ball before focusing on his large cock.  He places a sensual and full-lip kiss at the base of the shaft and, then, he trails the whole underside’s length with tiny pecks. Melkor’s fingers slide in his hair to reach his scalp and massage his silky hair. 

“You’re so good”, moans Melkor. It’s so powerful the sight of Mairon on his knees giving him pleasure with such intensity. 

Mairon licks with a moan the two drops of precum on his tip. 

“Do you like the way my tongue feels against your cock?”, asks Mairon while he presses his tongue lightly in his meatus. 

And Melkor cannot keep himself from tilting back his head and heaving a heavy almost guttural sigh: 

“Naughty Mairon”, he whispers in pleasure, massaging his scalp. 

Mairon opens his eyes and looks for a second at his boss, lost in waves of arousal, before reaching the spot between the balls and the base of the cock. There Mairon sucks the skin intensely: 

“And the way my lips feels against your cock?”, he asks, half-closed eyes. 

Melkor opens his eyes in the meanwhile to watch him as Mairon repeats the action at the base of his throbbing shaft. His lips are wonderful like that.  
As answer, he tightens the grab of Mairon’s messy hair from the roots and pulls slightly. 

Moaning for what Melkor is doing with his hair, Mairon pushes his mouth along Melkor’s shaft, slowly, tasting every single centimetre of it, enjoying the sensation of his mouth so wide opened.  
Then, he tilts his head and the tip of the cock brushes against the soft skin inside his cheek. 

Melkor’s reaction is so wonderfully dirty. He brushes his thumb over Mairon’s cheek, over and over again, feeling and stimulating the tip of his own cock through his skin, growling like an animal. 

Mairon would smirk if his mouth was empty.  
After a while, he tilts again his head, on the other side, and repeats the action, while his tongue massage the underside of his cock. 

Melkor comes almost without warning but Mairon releases his cock from his mouth while he’s coming and greets his cum with his tongue and lips, filthy. 

“Naughty Mairon”, Melkor moans again, enjoying Mairon’s whim as he spends the last drops on his lips. 

In his afterglow Melkor looks at his assistant, still beautifully on his knees, as he licks his lips sensually, and it comes natural for him to clean Mairon's mouth's corner with his finger. So he understands that Mairon has become his addictive poison. 

 

***Friday 

“How is the cat?”, asks Melkor when Mairon steps into his office with his black coffee. 

“Tevildo”, points out Mairon, “Tevildo is fine”, smiling softly as usual when he talks about his cat. 

“Is he get used to you?”

“Yes, every day is better. He’s still learning my pace but he’s super smart. He wakes me up during night but it’s normal” 

“He sleeps with you?” 

“Yes, as I cannot simply put him in another room during night. He needs me but also I need to stay with him. After all he’s alone the whole day and it’s just unfair. That was a reason why I didn’t take a cat before” 

That image is simply perfect in Melkor’s mind. 

 

*** Friday, in the tube

 

“You know what?”, Melkor breaks the silence as they stands in subway’s car, in each other’s arms stilly. 

“Mmm”, replies Mairon, without opening his eyes, enjoying his sultry scent and his enveloping hug. 

“I would like…simply… sleep with you”. 

“I don’t suffer of poor sleeping”, Mairon smiles. 

“That’s the point. You would sleep and I would take care of you in my arms”. 

Mairon glances at him incredulously. 

Perhaps some emotional components are surfacing.

Perhaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [shackal-jackal](http://shackal-jackal.tumblr.com) and check her fab tumblr! ❤ Her Melkor is one of my soft spot. 
> 
> And always thanks for reading ❤
> 
> Ps: Teufel. German for > "Devil", "Satan" > old German "tiufal".  
> Tevildo. Quenya root "TEFE" > "hate" or "hatred".  
> Well, it's clear.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from an addiction to a destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly Melkor's point of view. Mostly.  
> Have a good time with Melkor and Mairon's Saturday :)

*** Saturday, late in the afternoon

 

When someone starts knocking at his apartment door, he expectes anything but him.  
Seriously, Mairon waited for a text message or even a call all the day long. If Melkor had texted him suggesting an evening together, he would have accepted it, for he’s feeling the necessity to bring that thing outside the narrow field in which they are. 

Probably Melkor felt the same as he decided that he had only one chance to do the right thing.  
The need he felt worked also as a beacon: never before a so deep urgency run over him. Together with the idea that he has lost precious time.  
To do what?  
The right thing, that is to take his car to reach the man who cares about him.  
Until now, he has never seen such a level of devotion within himself. Idea that satisfied and worn his ego out, at the same time. As a narcissist, Mairon’s interest is more than pleasant, fulfilling and hot; Melkor caught many times his attractiveness, his trembling body under their kisses and the lust given by the idea of possessing him. But thinking of being in a younger man’s power is not exactly a good shot for his pride.  
Is it really a matter of power? Melkor doesn’t think so, maybe also for his self-esteem.  
The fact is that Mairon is right.  
He understood his words only Friday late in the night – or Saturday early in the morning, to be precise -, when he took all the pieces of the previous weeks and dialled them together, as a collage. Something that he had to do at least one week before but he didn’t because he’s a self-victim.  
After all, and again, Mairon was right saying that he will be not safe without him: no one but Mairon asked him to be the better version of himself.  
And yes, he was a victim; of course he was: like a passive object that goes through events, even his own experiences, without analysing and disembowelling them. So focused on hate that he became a victim of the events, a victim of himself.  
_Substantial_. 

So, when Mairon opens the door, Melkor can’t help to stare. He’s so used to see the young man in black suits at work that the vision of him in comfortable and relaxed clothes dries his mouth sorely. If it’s possible, he is even more alluring.  
For that reason Melkor steps in without a word, pretending to not notice two centimetres of his lower belly skin in plain view, between the sweatpants - slipped a bit too much down by his hips - and the black-faded old metal t-shirt.  
He doesn’t see his coppery hair styled in a loose braid. And he doesn’t fill – not at all – his lungs intensely with Mairon’s scent: everything there is permeated with it. Melkor would smell his pillow. Melkor wants that smell in his bedroom.  
He pretends to not look persistently at his small and round ass, emphasised by the fitted style of the sweatpants, while Mairon gives him his back to close the entrance door.  
Eventually, he fakes to not notice his bare feet; Melkor doesn’t like feet: it’s not his thing but with Mairon’s he would make an exception, gladly.  
Then, with the idea that _with him_ he would do a lot of things even if they are not his things, he surrenders himself to Mairon’s will, completely.  
He would wrap him in his enveloping arms without even thinking for two seconds more but Mairon’s worth to be treated with something better than a possessive, even if passionate, clasp. Moreover Mairon would react in a bad way and everything would be lost: he’s sure about that. 

It’s not the fact of being taken by surprise that puts Mairon in the wrong frame of mind but Melkor’s attitude, his acting like he owns the whole place there. Even him.  
Melkor stepped in without a word and, well, that would be rude from anyone, especially from his boss with whom he has a kind of link.  
The situation could be a little embarrassing, potentially, and Mairon feels that, in such way, his domestic intimacy - his private space - has been a little violated with that intrusion: to go outside for a dinner, a drink - or whatever Melkor wanted - would be ok. But like so…

“Why are you here?”, Mairon attacks. 

“I miss your coffee”, replies Melkor, following him, smirking at Mairon’s annoyed tone of voice, “am I still in time?”. 

“My coffee or my ass?”, giving him his back as he walks towards his living room. 

Melkor’s smirk widens. 

“Please, your shoes”, rebukes Mairon, turning himself and putting his hand out to stop him, “This is not a coffee bar”. 

At least Melkor has the decency to take his shoes off without complaining, before taking another step into the apartment. 

When Melkor enters the living room, he finds Mairon sit on the carpet in the middle of the room, an elastic band in his hand and a lively Tevildo near him.  
Melkor sits down next to him, his back resting against the lower part of the couch, with a thought that crosses his mind: his father loves cats; for that reason he hates them since he was four years old.  
Almost immediately he dissolves that unhealthy thought about his father and focuses his attention on the domestic situation before his eyes; he can feel a sort of anxiety and strange sensation in his stomach. To not talk about the one in his groin. But that’s another matter.  
_The situation.  
_ Cosy, even if it’s not his home. A bit melancholy, like Mairon’s eyes. Sweet, even if it doesn’t belong to him. Desirable, like Mairon’s scent.  
Melkor cannot describe himself as an empathic man; he has never been good with people simply because he never cared. Not really.  
And yet with Mairon he’s learning it. For Mairon.  
Because Mairon is smart without pretence, sensitive without put it to use and _substantial_. Maybe also blunt, a little introvert and a bit bastard but all of these do not hurt anything.  
_Substantial._  
That was what he missed most of all in his life, as Mairon said some days before, when he “kidnapped” him in his office. 

Mairon feels a bit uncomfortable because that situation is too much untold. So he puts the little cat in the box - knowing perfectly that Tevildo, box or not box, is going to follow him whatever it takes - and moves quickly out to reach the kitchen, saying 

“Your coffee” 

To justify his sudden movement. 

Melkor follows him again, casting a glance at his apartment, small but tidy and linear.  
His kitchenette is made of old rough-sawn oak, giving the space a hot and intimate atmosphere, emphasised by the smell of the raw coffee ground that Mairon is pressing in a moka pot. 

Ironic, Mairon thinks, the _destiny_ : few weeks ago he was reading the newspaper with the article about Bauglir and preparing the coffee for himself. And now, he’s doing a coffee for Bauglir, who has become his boss; and something else. 

“I see, better than a coffee bar!”, Melkor comments, also to break that tension between them, “Actually I think it will be even better than the one that you serve me at work”. 

“Grinding is different because of the coffee machine”, explains Mairon, placing the coffee pot on the burner and turning himself to face him. 

“Anyway”, Mairon adds, “Obviously, you were just passing by”. 

“No”, replies Melkor, “I came here on purpose”. 

“That is?” 

“One important thing to do” 

“Then enlighten me” 

Melkor takes in his hands Tevildo - who approached happily and faster than predicted - and lifts him in the air to watch his nice muzzle. 

“To meet Tevildo”, explains Melkor, “In such way he’s also mine as I helped with the name. I claim the fatherhood for his name”. 

“Always self-referential”, comments Mairon, lifting his eyebrow with his sarcasm. 

“He’s very nice”, adds Melkor, as Tevildo meows and tries to wiggle out of his grasp, for he’s not used to strangers, tall strangers even more so. 

“Nice eyes, I’ve never seen such beautiful eyes in a cat”, continues Melkor. 

Mairon nods confirming Melkor’s point of view. 

Then Melkor places Tevildo on a kitchen’s chair. The little cat appreciates and lays on his belly comfortably, keeping his eyes on Mairon. 

As the coffee starts being brewed, the younger man turns himself to check and turn the burner off, eventually. Melkor takes advantages from the dropping of his guard. So he approaches Mairon to hug him from the behind. 

“And to do this”, says Melkor, as his fingertips touch lightly the uncovered skin of his belly, marking the path two times. 

“I’m here to be worthy of your love”, adds Melkor. 

Mairon breaths out softly, closing the eyes, placing his tilted head against his chest while Melkor’s breath tickles his stiff and side neck. And he smiles for nothing different he expected from him: Melkor has understood his tangled game, finally. 

“I know what you are thinking”, speaks Melkor, kissing his jaw line with his soft and full lips, “That’s a game, only a game”. 

Mairon opens his mouth sensually as Melkor kisses his cheek and his explorative fingers go up under his t-shirt, tracing the path between his navel and the upper belly, brushing lightly against the double piercing.

“And you want to control the game, to set the rules”, as his fingers reach Mairon’s right nipple. 

There, a little cold bar pierce it. Melkor smiles for the surprise, trailing biting kisses on his jaw line.  
The fingers of his left hand move to reach Mairon’s left nipple, to check if there’s another little surprise also there. And there it is. 

Mairon puts his hands over Melkor’s, pressing them, inviting him to play with his sensitive nipples. His desire is immediately satisfied and he starts moaning with the same intensity of the nipples play. 

“Naughty Mairon”, says Melkor pulling lightly for some seconds the bars before pressing his hands on his chest and raising him a little from the ground to make more intense that hug.  
Now, Mairon’s ass is exactly over his cock. He opens a little his legs to soothe the growing pressure in his jeans. 

Mairon gasps, a bit in surprise as he feels his body lifted up; then, he presses his body up against Melkor’s, rising his arms to slide his hands across his hair, tangling it, deepening the hug.  
Erotic, too erotic; that man is unbearably erotic. 

“But that’s not a game”, continues Melkor, kissing the side of the neck and smelling the scent of his hair, “and you know it”. 

“This is”, pauses Melkor, moving his hands to reach his hips once again; then he whispers in his ear: “ _Destiny_ ”. 

Mairon opens his eyes to look at him, almost in shock. Even if his feet are now well grounded to the soil, his mind is confused while his heart is ponding heavily in his chest. He feels his body trembling as Melkor’s blue-grey eyes are caressing his face in a serious and intense and peaceful way. And Melkor speaks again: 

“You are not alone, not anymore”. 

Melkor took Mairon’s fragments: from his tiny smiles to his logic, from his deep hugs to his discreet solitude, all his hungry kisses and his body’s quivers and, not least, his insolence; then he put all the pieces together, as he did with the events. And the final result is worth of a whole lifetime. 

Mairon doesn’t know how and when it happened but Melkor studied and read his soul. He did it and he did it perfectly, in silence, with an unsuspected patience and without uproar. That’s why he felt so strange with his presence, some moments before: the inner consciousness of being naked and unveiled.  
So Mairon turns himself and embraces him, closing his eyes and smelling his scent, so rich and deep, the scent that has become a part of him. 

They stands inside that hug for a long time, without speaking with words but letting their hearts beating at the same excited speed.  
Mairon doesn’t want to break that contact but Melkor needs to look at him. 

“Mairon”, he whispers moving his hand along his neck. 

The younger man opens his eyes and look at him in his eyes. Then he smiles softly with a new light. 

“Mairon”, Melkor whispers again, cupping his cheeks in the hands, watching him like it was the first time, “I’m falling in love”. 

Mairon simply stands on tiptoe and kisses him fondly. 

Melkor can feel his sweet smile under his kisses, the smile that he loves, so it comes natural to wrap Mairon in his arms as their tongues play together, fighting the overpowering need to bury himself full-length in his silky scent, to devour him with his mouth. But Melkor breaks the kiss to watch him again.

The hungry gaze that Melkor turns upon him, sends shivers up and down Mairon’ spine and his nipples react immediately to the hot quivers. So he slides his hands over Melkor’s shoulders, so strong and inviting, exploring his muscular back before starting to unlace the buttons of his shirt.

And when Mairon starts to unfasten his shirt, Melkor’s control slips away. He turns themselves with a quick movement and presses Mairon against the kitchen’s table, as he slides his lips down his throat and covers his body with his own: it’s so beautiful to have him in his arms.

And Mairon cannot suppress a moan at the movement of his amazing mouth, his soft lips against the sensitive skin behind his left ear. As Melkor teases his ear piercings, he whispers “Wait”, putting his t-shirt off eagerly, to have the same attention on his nipples.

Melkor growls deeply lifting Mairon on the table and forcing him to lay on his back: he wants to give pleasure to every centimetre of his pale skin. So he reaches Mairon’s pink nipples that seem even more pink and juicy because of the piercings’ black steel bars.

“Naughty”, Melkor growls again, hurling at his nipples, sucking them alternatively in a mad way. And, not satisfied with the sucking only, he tugs the bar with his teeth, sometimes lightly sometimes boldly.

As answer, Mairon crosses his leg around his back while he moans without shame for the treatment Melkor is giving to his piercings. But he doesn’t want to stay passively like that. So he take Melkor’s hand in both of his and starts slowly sucking his index finger in and out of his warm, moist mouth. At each withdrawal, the tongue slowly circles and sucks the fingertip, and each time Mairon draws it back into his mouth to let him feel the light scraping of his teeth.

“Say it again”, orders Mairon, unclasping Melkor’s finger from his mouth.

“My naughty Mairon”, twisting his left nipple with the moist fingers.

Mairon arches his back moaning loudly, almost with a soft cry.

“Do you like that?”, asks Melkor, teasing with the tongue softly, now.

“Oh I like that”, answer Mairon in a moan, “it’s a new experience to me”.

“What you mean?”, asks Melkor as he puffs a cold breath against Mairon’s wet and abused nipple.

“I did the piercings three months ago”, making a yelp, “after my thesis”.

Thesis that was about him. That information turns Melkor on even more:

“Why don’t we take this into your bed?”, asks Melkor, licking gently the other nipple, “With your silky scent all around me? I’m crazy for your scent"

Mairon in reply tightens his grab with his legs around Melkor’s back: “The last door in the corridor”.

Melkor smiles as he lifts Mairon’s body from the table to take him in his bedroom.

“I love your scent too”, whispers Mairon as they walk together, intertwining his body with Melkor’s, “it was the first thing that took me in the tube _that_ _day_ ”.

Strangely they didn’t talk about that day before.

“And the second?”, asks Melkor opening his bedroom’s door, breathing deeply his parfume.

“Your wonderful cock”, replies Mairon sucking the skin of his neck.

“I like it when you talk about my cock”, smirks Melkor, placing his knees on the bed, trying to not lose his balance for Mairon’s words.

“And I like to suck your cock”, provokes Mairon, while Melkor sets the both of them in the middle of his bed.

“So you’ll love what I’m going to do right now”, says Melkor, taking off his open shirt before unfasten his jeans, giving a bit of relief to his huge cock.  
Then, he slips Mairon’s body from his sweatpants.

They spend some seconds admiring each other’s body. Melkor’s, so ripped, strong and beefy. Mairon’s, slender, lithe and so graceful.

Melkor bends over Mairon to take his underpants off. The younger man is so seductive and Melkor assaults him again, placing his body in the middle of Mairon’s thighs to kiss him with full desire.

Mairon crosses again his legs around his back, his cock pressed against Melkor’s, still trapped in the underpants. And, with a sudden, nimble and quick movement, he overturns the situation.  
Now it’s Mairon who sits on Melkor’s belly, breathing heavily and with sparkles in his eyes.

Melkor gasps in surprise for he really wasn’t expecting anything like that from the red haired man.  
Some weeks ago he would have fight a position like that one, considering it not befitting for his dominating pleasure. But with him, with Mairon, everything fulfils the pleasure as the only important thing is to stay with him in every possible way.  
The experience. Mairon is _the experience_.

Melkor is caressing Mairon’s chest, insisting on his nipples while Mairon moves sensually his body, rubbing his ass against the huge cock, moaning delightfully.  But Mairon changes almost immediately his position to remove Melkor’s underpants, freeing his huge cock from the painful pressure. Then he presses his fingers in Melkor’s mouth:

”Suck them”

That wicked creature.

When he’s satisfied with it, he places his body on Melkor’s right side, starting to kiss his length while his wet fingers play with Melkor’s opening.  
Firstly he rubs around it, swirling the fingertip around the hole, to arouse him further. In the exact moment in which Melkor’s cock has a twitch of pleasure, Mairon pushes his finger inside.

Melkor breaths out but Mairon gives him some seconds to accustom his body to the pleasant intrusion. Mairon’s mouth is still kissing deliciously his cock, and, when he adds his middle finger, his lips sucks his tip intensely. Melkor shuts his eyes and moans again, loudly this time.

Mairon waited Melkor’s eyes opened again before moving the fingers inside his body, pushing them in and out, enjoying the sight of him trying not to squirm, biting his bottom lip. He licks the plentiful precum collecting at the tip moaning softly, but he doesn’t continue with his mouth:

“I don’t want you to come so easily”, says Mairon giving a little peck on the head of his cock.

And it doesn’t take so much before Melkor starts to move against his fingers.

“Take me”, growls Melkor: the arousal is becoming unbearable and he is in need of Mairon in his arms.

“As you want”, smirks Mairon, while he pushes his fingers out slowly, opening them like scissors; then he takes a little envelope from the drawer of his night table before climbing over Melkor once again.

Melkor takes the little envelope from his hand: now it’s his time to tease Mairon. He spreads a big amount of the lube in his hands before covering the hard length with it; he massages Mairon’s cocks from the base to the tip; with one hand he squeezes and tugs lightly the base and Mairon moans closing his eyes; with the thumb he stimulates the tip until a little drop covers it. At the same time, Mairon touches lightly his nipples and arches his back, rubbing again his small perfect ass against Melkor’s huge rock hard cock.

When Melkor releases his length, Mairon settles in the middle of his spread legs, spreading them further before placing his cock against his entrance. Melkor helps his action, as he shuffles his weight around, spreading his legs the little necessary to keep the contact with Mairon’s soft skin. Melkor doesn’t want to lose the contact with his hot body.  
The younger man’s eyes looks up towards his face. Melkor is breathing heavily and his lips are parted. Burning desire in his eyes. Mairon smiles to him:

“Delicious”, Mairon moans, while he pushes his hips forward and he slides inside Melkor’s body feeling a bit of resistance in the beginning. The clasp against his cock is so hot and narrow.

Melkor shivers and gasps as he feels Mairon’s length sliding inside him fully; he doesn’t take his eyes off of Mairon’s smile while he grabs Mairon’s buttocks and presses his body even deeper inside him.

Mairon waited for that sight to reposition himself, lowering his body over Melkor until he can place his cheek against Melkor’s expanded chest. So close he wants to stay, hugging him, feeling his hot breath against his lips, kissing the skin accessible to his mouth.

Melkor embraces him, sliding his hands to caress his hair – once shaped in a braid -  and his back. He lift his legs, lowering  bit his hips to stimulate his soft spot with Mairon’s thrusting.

And, before thrusting again, Mairon slides his hands under Melkor’s body  to throw his arms around his shoulders. Now they are chained in a hot and voluptuous hug.

“Mine”, whispers Mairon sweetly, embracing him totally and starting pounding;  
feeling Melkor’s muscular back tensing, he thrusts harder, throwing his full weight against the man, sure about the effect of every single push inside his body.

Melkor moans a faint “Mairon” as he starts to push his hips accordingly, to meet Mairon’s cock fully. The younger man is kissing his chest and he’s immersed in Mairon’s silky scent .  
With his prostate regularly and heavily touched, together with his cock, pressed and squeezed at the base by Mairon’s right hand, Melkor comes breathing heavily and with a deep cry.

“Say it again”, moans Mairon, still moving his hips with a fast pace to get his climax.

“My naughty Mairon”, smirks Melkor in his afterglow, breathing out and caressing his hair.

As Melkor speaks, Mairon moans loudly, eyes glued on Melkor’s eyes, spilling his seed inside him.

For some seconds, the only noise in the room are their heavy breaths; once Mairon is outside his body, Melkor grabs his hips and pushes him in his arms, wrapping him to rest peacefully against his chest.

Mairon smiles softly as he kisses the vein in the side of his throat, diving in his sultry scent once more.  
After that night, his bed sheets are going to smell intensely of him.

‘I’m falling in love’, Melkor thinks but breaks the silence saying: “Like never before”, pampering his coppery red hair.

“Sorry?”, asks curiously Mairon, trailing tiny pecks on his collarbones.

 “Nothing”, says immediately Melkor; then: “You know what would be perfect now?”

“Mmm?”, lowering to kiss his chest.

“To have a shower”, all those kisses are turning him on again.

“You can have it”, sucking his chest with teeth to leave a lovebite on his skin.

“I mean…with you”

“Oh”, replies Mairon, lifting his head to watch him, “In my shower two people don’t fit in, sorry”

“So you have to come to me”, caressing his lips with the thumb, “It’s bigger and…there’s a big mirror exactly on the opposite wall”

“Narcissist”

“I’m not narcissist!”, explains Melkor, “Simply I love sex under the shower”

“Dirty and obscene. And narcissist”, whispers lightly Mairon, sucking his left earlobe.

Then a little “meow” catches their attention.  
Neither of them know exactly when Tevildo entered the room and placed himself on one of Mairon’s pillows. But it’s funny to find him there near the both of them.

“There he’s! Cat’s privacy”, comments Melkor, smirking a little. After all, Tevildo is _his_ cat and, like Mairon, he’s lovely.

“He follows me everywhere, like all cats do”, says Mairon, placing himself even more comfortably on Melkor’s chest.

Tevildo, understanding they’re talking about him, stands on his little legs and funnily approaches them, climbing Melkor’s chest to take his normal place near Mairon’s hot body.

Melkor glances at Mairon, who’s smiling and petting Tevildo’s head.  
The cat nibbles at Mairon’s finger before closing his eyes and starting with a flow of noisy purrs. The younger man giggles lightly.  
Melkor feels on his skin both Mairon’s giggles and Tevildo’s purrs.  
And, in a brief moment, he has found his place in a cosy and homely situation, becoming a fundamental part of it.

If Melkor, for a whole night thought that it was Mairon who was craving for a relationship with him, in that very moment he realises that it was him who was dying for Mairon’s touch of humanity.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still in the destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [shackal-jackal](http://shackal-jackal.tumblr.com) and now you know what this means! ;)

*** Monday, the fourth week 

 

Melkor takes the tube about forty minutes before his normal setting.  
Although the cars are chock-full, his voracious eyes grasp his hair even from the platform and a smile appears on his lips. 

Mairon, focused on his planner, doesn’t see him at first but he feels his presence by his rich scent, almost immediately.

“What are you doing here?”, utters Mairon in surprise, turning to him. 

Melkor doesn’t answer, he simply slides his hand to reach his nape, to drag at him and kiss him urgently. 

“Good morning, Mr. Bauglir”, whispers Mairon, rubbing each other’s lips . 

“Good way to start Monday morning”, replies Melkor with his deep voice, admiring his smile. 

“How was your week-end, Mr. Bauglir?”, without breaking his smile. 

“Very good until Sunday in the morning”, replies Melkor kissing his cheek. 

They spent the rest of Saturday night speaking and napping. Not so much of speaking as Mairon took him three times more.  
After Mairon fell asleep very quickly in Melkor’s arms, breathing on his expanded chest under the soft, hot blanket; and Melkor took care of him, as he desired, until the younger man turned the body on the left side, his favourite sleeping position. Also Tevildo slept on his chest but, when Mairon turned himself, the cat followed him, curling up near his belly.  
Then Melkor used that time to work a little, waiting for sleep, without leaving Mairon’s bed, watching the younger man, occasionally caressing his soft hair or focusing his attention on his calm and deep breath.  
At some point in the early morning, about 4, exactly when the sleep was starting to take his mind, Tevildo decided that he was bored of all that tranquillity; he colonised his Mairon meowing under his pillow in a whiny way to let him understand that he was in needing of attention. And food, as first stuff.  
Mairon, who was sleeping heavily, murmured something and fell asleep again in few seconds.  
When the little cat started to scratch the parquet and some furniture in the room, Melkor lost the chance of sleeping. So he got out the bed to take care of his cat. 

“Exactly what you want, little backup hard-ass?”, Melkor asked with his deep and irritated tone. 

“Meeeoow”, replied Tevildo with a shrill answer, getting out of the bedroom. 

So Tevildo happily brought him in front of the right kitchen’s closet: from that moment Melkor became his second favourite man.  
Mairon didn’t wake up before two hours. When he silently stepped in the small kitchen searching for a sign of the both of them, he found Melkor sit in the middle of it, with his back against the oven, cuddling Tevildo on his massive thigh. And, yes, Melkor was smiling at him.  
So the architect left the apartment around 8 in the morning, after a hot shower (alone, unfortunately), with some pictures of a beautifully sleeping and unaware Mairon in his phone and a travel cup full of the best coffee in the world.  
He was going home to work the whole day, so he really deserved Mairon’s coffee. The pictures, one in particular, as a consequence.

 

“Did you work Sunday?” 

“It’s done”, replies Melkor, smelling a lock of his hair. 

“What is done?” 

“Angband”, with a vivid light in the eyes. 

 

* 

The darkness of weather that day makes the atmosphere in his office a bit gloomy, emphasised by the fact that his boss tries to turn on the electric lights as less as possible for he doesn’t like them, nor the sunlight in general.

Mairon doesn’t know exactly what to expect from his work, but the view of him so thrilled made him thrilled too. 

“Ready?”, asks Melkor. 

“Yes, Mr. Bauglir”, replies Mairon with no tone in his voice, trying to hide his excitement. 

“I’ve done it by hand because you will make the graphic” 

Mairon nods. 

“So…”, says Melkor as he unrolls the paper architectural project, “Your opinion”. 

Mairon holds the breath for it’s an inexplicable emotion to have in his hands Melkor’s handmade project.  
The scheme involves three tapering towers - arranged like a crown and rising to 100 meters - a high winter garden, and a long glass galleria. The project includes - if required, like Melkor’s perfect handwriting annotates at the border - an artificial river or lake linked to a tubular bridge with high sides.  
The part inside the earth, surrounded by the tower’s crown, will be the real centre of the building, the heart of the Concert Hall.  
One eternal minute of silence passes before Mairon speaks:

“It’s rooted in the earth, a constant in your works”, says Mairon.

“The very essence of Angband’s architecture consists in a variety reminiscent of natural organic life in union with human life”, explains Melkor, “And that’s what I was searching for: the spirit of the context”. 

“And it’s…us”, says Mairon, visibly shaken, “It’s _our_ synthesis”. 

“If Utumno is great, Angband will be the perfection”, explains Melkor, “This is a synthesis of life in materialised form. It’s _us_ , like you said: the perfect synthesis of us”. 

Melkor moves to stand behind Mairon, placing the hot hands on his shoulders. “What is the man versus nature conflict, Mairon?”. 

Mairon quivers lightly for that intimate although innocent touch. Melkor smirks feeling his shivers.

“Is man constantly aware of the influence of nature or it happens only when man is in a relation with another man?”, he asks again. 

 “We should join the contradictions –our contradictions - not in a splintered way of thinking, but all in…harmony together”, Melkor continues, “As we are in our life”, as he puts a lock of coppery hair behind Mairon’s ear. 

Is Melkor talking about life or work? Or both?

Mairon’s eyes fill with tears, and he quivers again; this is probably the most beautiful declaration he has ever heard. 

“This little wave here”, shows Melkor on the front side of the building, “It’s shaped on your body as model”, as he whispers lightly, caressing sensually his hips. 

“Those three tops over there”, Melkor continues, kissing his temple, “Our mind, soul and pleasure”. 

“Empathy and alienation”, says Mairon, eyes glued on the project. 

“You and me”, says Melkor, “with a bit of eroticism”. 

“I want the work done in two days, Mairon”, changing completely his tone of voice from sensual to severe, leaving his hot body at the same time, “two or three weeks for the model, there’s no hurry for it”. 

“Only two days?”, asks Mairon with puzzled face. 

“Two days and half”, replies promptly Melkor,  “And”, he adds immediately, “I want one meeting here and a lunch with the financiers on Thursday. 

“In three days?”, asks Mairon baffled, “With all my respect, Mr. Bauglir, it’s meaningless! This project is due in ten days… it’s a suicide to deliver it so fast!”. 

“The project is done, Mairon, and I don’t want to waste precious time around one thing that I consider complete and perfect in its essence”, replies Melkor without giving him time to reply. 

Melkor approaches again his assistant, “Pressure changes everything, doesn’t it?”, caressing his upper lip with the thumb, “If I squeeze you, will you focus magically or will you collapse inexorably?”, greedy eyes fixed on Mairon as the thumb caresses his bottom lip.  
“Can you summon all your talent and your genius at will, Mairon? Can you deliver on a pressing deadline? Can you go on with your life in the meanwhile?”. 

Mairon’s answer comes outright; with a quick movement he sucks his thumb up in the mouth; The younger guy savour it, sucking it in and out with only the mouth pressure; and before releasing it, he flicks the tip of the thumb with his silky tongue. 

Melkor smirks.  
He would devour him.  
But he leaves Mairon to sit at his desk’s chair: 

“Now you know something more about my way of working”, his last word on that matter. 

 

***Evening, in the tube 

“That’s not so strange”, comments Melkor, wrapping in his arms the younger man. 

“It’s striking to see and to know that someone – that’s me in this case – had a so deep influence on a work, your work. And, well, it’s impressing also to find ourselves in it. I don’t know how to explain properly”, replies Mairon, tightening the hug. 

“That’s your fault”, replies Melkor smiling lightly, caressing his hair. 

“My fault?” 

“You, you gave me the inspiration” 

“Oh”, smiles Mairon, “When exactly?” 

“What happened in the archive, last Thursday”, provokes Melkor as he rubs his body against Mairon’s. 

“You know you’ve just ruined this moment?”, Mairon lifts the face to wither him with a look. 

“Naughty Mairon”, smirks Melkor, “I meant what you said, not what you did”, enjoying the red blush on Mairon’s cheeks.

Nice experience to see him blushing, he didn’t even think it was possible to make Mairon blush. 

“What I said exactly?”, trying to dissolve the blushing. 

“You talked about your life and you said how you organise your life, using a metaphor with the archives” 

That perfect, amazing and unpredictable man. 

“It’s encouraging to know that you listen also”, smiles lightly Mairon. 

“Only the things I care”, kissing his forehead, “But you know”, adds Melkor, “Also blowjobs help inspiration”. 

Perfect, amazing, dirty man. 

 

***Tuesday 

“Neutral colour?”, asks Mairon. 

“White”, replies Melkor, glancing at Mairon’s laptop, placed on the desk, next to him. 

“Prevalent colour inside?” 

“Well”, starts Melkor, putting the eyeglass off, “I’ve selected wood, metal and brick”, he continues, “the best standardisation is nature itself, but natural standardisation exists mainly in connection with the smallest units contained in itself. The main thing is to refine materials in a more human direction”. 

Mairon thinks.  
“Light wood? Like birch? Or oak?”, asks Mairon lifting his eyebrow; sometimes it’s impossible to understand where his mind is wandering. 

Melkor watches him, intensely. 

“I want a red wood. A coppery red for all the wood parts and inserts”, playing with one lock of his hair, well-lighted by the sun of 11 am.  
Then he smells it. Silky and transparent. 

Mairon doesn’t comment on it, trying to keep his manner in the most professional way. 

“Redwood so; or sequoia red?”, while he tips something on his laptop. 

Melkor checks again his hair. Then: “Natural redwood”. 

“Are you sure about the effect between floating steel stairs and redwood, Mr. Bauglir?” 

“More than sure”, comments Melkor, caressing with the thumb his bare skin between the ear and the shirt collar. 

“What about bricks? White?”, asks Mairon trying to escape from his attentions. 

“It’s clear”, says Melkor approaching a bit more to him, just the necessary to rub the nose against the same spot. 

“Mr. Bauglir”, Mairon turns his head to face him. 

Melkor takes advantages of the situation to lick his lips. 

“I have only two days to do the work”, bending his head on the side to put distance between him and his boss. 

“One and half”, Melkor interrupts him. 

“Even better: one and half”, comments Mairon sarcastically, “let-me-work”, saying distinctly every single word. 

Melkor gives up, for that day.  
After all, even Mairon need time to work. 

 

***Evening, in the tube 

“Mairon”, says Melkor cupping his cheeks in the hands. 

The younger man looks up to him into his eyes. 

“I trust deeply in you, Mairon”, says Melkor with his serious and attractive expression, “If I didn’t, I wouldn't want you for the job”. 

“I know”, says Mairon, his eyes are soft and adoring, “I know my abilities and I’m not afraid of testing them”. 

Mairon is always calm and ethereal in all the things he does.  
Melkor admires and loves this particular attitude in him because, with Mairon, everything finds its place and there rests in tranquillity.  
In his chaotic soul there’s never been room for calm. But inside his wasted world, something started to move and this ‘something’ is building a new ground. 

Mairon simply stands on his tiptoes to meet his mouth with a little tiny peck. He learnt that when Melkor is seemingly so calm and pensive, something is working or changing in his fiery and volcanic mind.  
He only would know what. 

 

***Wednesday 

“Bauglir, architectural and graphic design studio, good afternoon”, answers Mairon from his open space. His tone is a bit annoyed as the call really disturbed him in the middle – and at the edge - of his work. 

“Yes, of course, the two emails”, says the younger man turning the head, feeling his scent and his presence.  
Mairon doesn’t know exactly when Melkor walked up behind him. 

But the things that Mairon feels perfectly are his hands as they’re sliding around his waist, moving down sinuously to unbutton his trousers. At the same time he feels his hot breath tickling his side neck while Melkor is drinking his scent: he can’t help to tilt his head on the right side, unconsciously. 

The first thought is how to keep a normal tone of voice as his boss’ fingers slide the zipper down, deftly and quietly. 

“I need the material specified in the previous email and also the ready-made pieces for structural components listed in the second email”, continues Mairon, closing his eyes to keep the focus. 

The second thought is how to dissimulate what’s going on if someone steps in his open space.  
But, as Melkor’s hand slips down into his undergarments, Mairon stifles a sudden urge to choke. 

“Be professional, stay on the phone", Melkor whispers in his left ear, playfully but with his authoritative and severe tone, as his warm hand finds Mairon’s shaft. 

Mairon presses the mute button: "Stop it, immediately!" 

Melkor reaches and turns the mute off smirking lightly before putting again the right hand in his undergarments, finding his cock already half-hard with this second exploration. He wants to see Mairon totally done. 

“Sure, I understand and it would be even more easy to get both the order together. The delivery address is the one at the……bottom of the emails”, says Mairon, with a little hesitation: the hand caressing his balls doesn’t help. 

“Yes, the bottom”, whispers Melkor, rubbing his hardening cock against Mairon’s ass. 

Mairon mumbles something in response, not sure if to Melkor or to the woman on the call. The notes he’s taking are getting harder and harder, both to be read and to be written as Melkor's hand start to move faster around his cock, gently gripping his shaft and moving up and down firmly, with the thumb teasing the tip with each stroke. With the other hand he plays with his balls, moving them from side to side, gingerly. 

“I give the authorisation to the payment”, says Mairon with one single breath, almost in apnoea, biting his lips harshly, as if it could help to control his breath. 

Melkor’s fingernails tingle deliciously the thin skin of the inner thigh and Mairon quivers violently. His cock is pulsating painfully, absolutely rigid and rock-hard; he would like to move his hips, at least a little, but he strives to remain professional and impassive during the call. 

There’s nothing more beautiful than the feeling of Mairon’ shivers under his touch. Melkor bites softly, but intensely, the little portion of skin between the earlobe and the shirt’s collar, the one that he studied the day before so carefully, the exact point in which the blood vessel runs. 

Mairon quivers again, even more violently this time and breaths out tilting the head back, placing it against his shoulder. If he was not on a call, he would have screamed.  
Thankfully, the payment takes time to be registered, giving Mairon the possibility to enjoy the handjob fully, as Melkor’s hands move with more purpose rubbing him over the edge; the bite he gave him locked something unknown inside his body.  
With this sensation Mairon spills his semen shamelessly into the undergarments, feeling the hot excess dripping filthy over his balls. 

But for Melkor that’s not enough.  
He plays with the hot seed, rubbing it on Mairon’s balls before unzipping his own trousers and pulling out his huge cock.  
He strokes it, thick and hard-rock, while the younger man tries desperately to make sure his tone of voice: 

“Good, I’m going to give you the security bank code”, says Mairon while Melkor’s legs stiffens and his boss moans lightly in his ear.

Mairon knows he’s about to come, so he let the pen glide to join the hand with his. 

Melkor takes the adorned earlobe in his mouth as he feels his assistant’s hand covering his and moving at the same pace. With few, regular and tight strokes, he spills hard his seed on Mairon’s legs, whispering “Naughty”, in his left ear. 

Then Melkor takes a few deep breaths, kissing his jawline with need, growling like an animal.  
He leaves Mairon’ space after few seconds. 

Mairon has always with him a dress change, in his personal closet.  
And Melkor knows it. 

Three hours later Mairon delivers Angband’s graphical project with unpredicted good mood. 

 

***Evening, in the tube 

 

“Don’t do it again” 

“Admit it…it was exciting” 

“Nevermore” 

“Mairon, it was a selling…you could have even came crying or screaming and they would have pretended that everything was perfectly normal for money’s sake”, comments Melkor, “I live for things like that!”. 

“So, do it when it’s you on the call” 

“Is it an offer?” 

“No” 

“Too bad”, replies Melkor, “But you liked it. Be sincere” 

Mairon smirks lightly without saying a word. 

“That’s why you take with you the dress change”, provokes Melkor. 

“Untrue” 

“Maybe”, says Melkor, “But now we know how to use it”. 

“Anyway”, says Melkor, “I should add more pressure when you work”. 

“No thank you” 

“The project is perfect” 

This is the first time that Melkor says the word “perfect” referring not to his own job but to Mairon’s. 

 

***Thursday 

 

Working launch are considered, from most of the people, boring and avoidable. But not from him. With his experience he has learnt for a long time how to manage with these kind of situations, just making the best of them.

Melkor studied the three men since the talk in the classy meeting room: their attitudes, their anxiety poorly hidden, the unspoken words under long, complicated and bureaucratic sentences; he cough their purposes, skilfully and patiently driven out after a silent hunt and, now, the only thing he has to do is to touch the right spots histrionically.

Together with the help of a good and strong wine, even the financiers, basically focused on the idea of making more money, are in his hands and at his will. 

“It’s not so adorned”, commented one of the men at the restaurant’s table. 

“Well, Mr. Glaurung, I work for simple, good, undecorated things”, explains Melkor, “but things which are in harmony with the human being and organically suited to the surround, mainly”. 

“Well, it’s you the artist and we are honoured to have your design excellence in that desolate land”, comments Mr. Scatha quickly because his intent is not to offend him; artists sometimes are touchy. 

“You have to think in a longer time-scale, or in a more general prospective”, Melkor pauses a little, “This fact will grant the rise of more buildings perfectly intersected”. 

“Yes, this will be the first building”, explains Mr. Glaurung, “The idea is to build a rich city, around your creation, full of architectural attractions as well as cultural and leisure centre”. 

Melkor’s eyes sparkles. 

“Your construction, with your signature, will increase in value the land”, explain the third man at the table. 

“Of course it will, Mr. Smaug”, says astutely Mairon, “that’s why you need an accurate development plan to avoid errors that may cause a money failure”. 

“That’s precisely how it is”, Mr. Glaurung says, “For both reasons we turned to your studio. And”, he adds, placing the glass of red wine on the table, “With the idea of commissioning more structures in the future”. 

“We can say the ultimate goal of the architect is to create a paradise”, says Melkor, “Every house, every product of architecture and design should be a fruit of endeavour – or an opera – to build an earthly paradise”. 

“That’s what we are searching for, a way to give value to the land and promote it, not at least”, says Mr. Smaug. 

Melkor smirks internally. 

“The first idea we got was to create only a city for entertainment”, Mr. Scatha explains, “But our idea is turning into something different: an urban area that will bring high population density and infrastructure of built environment. Nevertheless we consider appropriate and necessary to step cautiously”. 

“The land has a great potential in both the developments: as a rich destination and as an urban area”, confirms Melkor, “It has not been developed until now and you could be the first to give value to it”. 

“Together with your help in increasing that value, Mr. Bauglir”, Mr. Smaug replies, “I think we have a profitable deal with you and with your studio”, glancing at Mairon. 

An effective working lunch is when all the men around the table are satisfied, everyone for his own reasons. And Melkor is more than satisfied as, after many years of work, they’re handing him the possibility to achieve his biggest dream. 

“Well, Mr. Bauglir, with your permission, I need a cigarette before the coffee”, says Mr. Smaug. 

Melkor smirks lightly.  
Among civilized men, there's such a thing as the unwritten law. When three business men declare their need of a smoke break, it means that probably they have to speak in a private. 

“Please, bear with me for a minute”, says Mairon getting out of his chair. A sparkle in his eyes as he glances at his boss.

Then he moves with quick steps to the toilets. 

“A smoke break that’s what we all need”, Mr. Scatha comments, as he gets off his chair too, offering them to all the men at the table. 

“Thank you but I’ve quit smoking”, says Melkor as he gets out the chair, “I would order for us something special and a bit strong for after the coffee while you enjoy your break”. 

“Only the best from you, Mr. Bauglir”, Mr. Glaurung adds. 

* 

Well, if Mairon is a tantalizing man, Melkor is the one who takes the situation to the extreme. 

Mairon is waiting for him, knowing that, in a way or another, he would have find the way to join him.  
So, with his back against the wall opposite to the door, near the last one of the washbasin, he smirks lightly at the view of his boss, who’s stepping into the toilet. 

The gent’s toilet is empty. Or, better to say, it seems empty and that’s enough for Melkor, as he has no kind of interest in checking the situation further. It would be even more intriguing if some stranger could listen them. 

His movement is so sudden and quick that Mairon not even understands fully when and how it happened.The only thing he knows is that, now he’s pressed in the inner corner of the nearest dark elegant cubicle; light switched off, the door half closed, his trousers already slipped around his ankles, along too his undergarments.  
Melkor’s mouth on his, taking his time to taste him deeply. Everything is oddly quite, his kisses are slow and even sweet, contrasting with his actions, as Melkor’s left hand pins both Mairon’s wrists on his head, against the cold granite wall. 

“Are you here for the dessert, Mr. Bauglir?”, asks Mairon as Melkor gives him a short break before covering his lips again; Mairon arouses him moving sensually the body against his, enjoy the sensation of the bare skin in contact with the soft cloth of his boss’ suit. 

Melkor loves when Mairon calls him ‘Mr. Bauglir’ with his husky, sensual and a bit lower tone of voice. 

“You know I don’t like sweets”, comments Melkor sliding the tongue along Mairon’s throat. 

“What a pity, Mr. Bauglir”, says Mairon, tilting a bit the head back to let his wet tongue work better against the skin. 

“That doesn’t mean I’m not going to taste you as I want”, replies Melkor biting lightly his left nipple covered by the shirt. At the same time, his free hand is working to unfasten his own trousers. 

Hot quivers crosses Mairon’s body, the sensation of his teeth through the rigid cloth is amazing.  
He gasps and squirms a little, as Melkor’s bite changes intensity, too much rough now against the sensitive and pierced skin. 

“We don’t have time”, says Melkor releasing the wrists to take his assistant by his hips; then he slips his hands under his perfect butt, lifting his body straight up against the wall, placing his own between Mairon’s legs. 

Mairon breaths out heavily: he didn’t expected to be fucked like this, in one elegant toilet cubicle in the most luxury restaurant of the city; but he welcomes the experience crossing the legs around Melkor’s waist.  
Even if he’s not particularly heavy, he perceives his muscles tense; for a better balance and a more intimate union, he feels the impulse to circle his arms around his neck; it’s a strange sensation, Mairon thinks, sinking into his scent: a mix of perverted pleasure and deep unique contact.  
With him, only with Melkor he can touch lightly the opposites and be a part of them, simultaneously.  
So he starts to whisper naughty things in his ear, expecting his reaction to his words. 

“Fuck me, Mr. Bauglir”, he moans, sucking sensually his earlobe. 

Melkor grunts in pleasure, he likes when Mairon talks to him in that way. With a rapid movement he places the head of his hard cock at Mairon’s entrance, pressing a little, just to check the body’s answer. 

“Mr. Bauglir”, moans Mairon languidly feeling the explorative wet head of his shaft. He rocks a little his pelvis back and forth, once, twice, rubbing the thin skin deliciously against his tip: he arouses him, inciting the boss to continue, deepening desperately his grab in his feverish anticipation, for Melkor stopped almost immediately the penetration. 

Feeling his longing, Melkor forces himself inside his assistant, entering him slowly, kissing his neck with his hot and full lips.  
He lifts again the hips, pressing another centimetre inside. Mairon stiffens his legs and relaxes the muscles at once. And again, another centimetre with another firm hard thrust. 

Mairon moans, deeply into his heavenly suffering: 

“Huge”, he cries out loudly feeling the body stretched around his cock. 

Melkor growls and presses more again, knowing perfectly that he’s close, so close to come, for Mairon is unbearably tight around his cock. Also the mental stimulation is more than powerful and perfect for his vanity: his young assistant is moaning his name while he’s violently coming inside him.  
Then he starts to pump his half entered cock slowly, fighting the urge to get more in: he doesn’t want to hurt Mairon as the only lube he got was Melkor’s abundant precum. 

Mairon folds forward from the hips, pushing his pelvis to have the perfect angle to stimulate the soft spot full of nerves with Melkor’s thrusting.  
And, with a soft muffled cry from Mairon’s mouth, Melkor comes hard inside him. 

For some seconds everything is still, peaceful and blessed as they rest and breath in that hot carnal embrace.  
Then Melkor lowers slowly his body, sustaining him with attention and tenderness.  
And before it’s too late, Melkor hands some papers over him, to be sure to not stain his suit’s trousers.  
Then, Melkor kisses him passionately before leaving the toilet in few seconds to meet again the men at their table. 

Mairon cleans himself in the quickest way but the cock is still hard because he got no relish, and he feels still excited for what has just happened.

Extraordinary, divine exhaustion. 

 

***Late evening, in the tube 

The choice is simple.  
Or to come back to the previous weeks, when the idea of taking the tube with him aroused with force every single cells of his being, or to continue with the new experience they’re having in the subway’s cars, that is to take that time for them, to talk about their life and visions, trying to understand how they’re influencing each other, in a so deep and complex way. 

The thousand needles in his groin are suggesting the first option, needing him as an erotic and sensual man; but Mairon’s mind need him as Melkor, in all his aspects.  
For that reason Mairon ignores the sexual arousal as well as his stimulant scent and his soft lips; so, he moves to sits, for the first time in four weeks, in the car’s seat, stretching and crossing his legs at the ankles. 

He perceived him as his actual boss only for a couple of days. He’s something more closer to a master or a mentor. Without considering that he’s becoming the man who Mairon loves. 

“What are you thinking about?”, asks Melkor as he observes his pensive assistant. 

“I’m thinking about this”, Mairon crosses his arms also, “How my personal life is influencing your work and how your work is influencing my personal life”. 

“Inevitable, desirable”, says Melkor; then he adds: “Overpowering”. 

“So you lied when you did my interview”, states Mairon. 

“I never lie”, sitting next to him. 

“Let’s say that you were trying to play it cool” 

“I needed you to let down your guard, to understand how you really are. It’s not easy to catch a person in 20 minutes during a job interview and”, pauses Melkor, “If I talked about architectural view and life, probably you would have run away considering me a fool”. 

“You underestimate me”, comments Mairon as he smiles and his eyes twinkles. 

“Never done”, replies Melkor, “but now I know”. 

‘You know what?’, Mairon would ask. But it’s too late as Melkor stands, his stop approaching. And Mairon stands quickly too, to hug him before it’s too late.  
Melkor grabs him by his throat and presses lightly on the spot he discovered two days before, not to choke him, just to kiss him deeply.  
A little erotic thing to think about during their solitary night far from each other. 

 

***Friday 

“That was well done, Mairon, well played”, says Melkor nodding at him, as his assistant steps in his office. 

Mairon watches him puzzled as he places the cup of his morning black and strong coffee on his desk, together with an uncountable number of mails. 

“That…what?” 

“I mean”, explains Melkor as he puts off his eyeglasses, “To prompt the idea of a development plan, yesterday during the lunch”. 

“Oh”, comments Mairon, “yes, it was the only way to get them out of hiding and, at the same time, to let them understand they can trust in our future plans”. 

“The plan will be your job, wholly”, as he checks the bundle of letters he just got from his assistant. 

Mairon’s eyes sparkles. 

“Have you ever done a development plan?”, he asks without lifting his head. 

“Only theoretically but never practically, Mr. Bauglir” 

“It’s time to start”, says Melkor, “Of course, I will guide you”. 

Then, he lifts his face and he smirks at him: “Probably we’re going to work also during the week-ends”. 

 

***Friday, in the tube 

 “You come to me tonight?”, he asks while he plays with his soft, red hair. 

“You’re forgetting someone”, smirks Mairon. 

“Yeah, Tevildo”, says Melkor, “I pick the both of you up, if you want” 

“Do you have a leather cough in your super luxurious attic?” 

“Yes, I drew it personally” 

“Of course” 

“So what?”, asks Melkor. 

“Cat’s nails on your design cough, without counting your furniture totally scratched” 

“I hate cats”. Then, “We keep him in a cage”, jokes Melkor. 

“Drop it, he’s only young”, replies Mairon serious, “and I know you really care for him”. 

“Be with you, guys, in one hour and something”, kissing his forehead softly, “Wait for me to eat”, as he reaches his stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading ❣


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a nice week-end with their week-end.  
> To not spoil anything, in the end-notes you will find a link to a drawing made by [immortabeloved](https://immortabeloved.tumblr.com) ; her art is AMAZINGLY PERFECT, so follow my suggestion: check it after reading the chapter and reblog it! Thank you!

***The same Friday, some hours later 

 

The dark-orange/deep-red colour of the lamp from the bedside table beams a soft and warm shade on Mairon’s light skin. Together with his coppery hair, the light suits him perfectly. 

Melkor stepped in his apartment, taking two seconds to put his shoes off before hugging him straight in his arms, kissing him desperately, closing automatically the entrance door behind them with the foot.He lifted his body in his arms and drifted him towards his bedroom.God, how he loves to lift Mairon in his arms. 

Melkor slowly undressed Mairon, unbuttoning his white shirt, kissing all the places newly disrobed until all that was left was his delicate naked body. 

“Beautiful”, whispered Melkor, the fingertips lightly grazing his chest and belly, avoiding his nipples intentionally, “So very beautiful”. 

They kissed again while Mairon’s hands did the same with his dresses, starting with his casual shirt; then his exploring hands discovered the closure on the jeans and opened it with a natural desire of slowness. And again his hands wandered over Melkor’s skin and lightly traced the contours of his muscles, so strong and inviting. 

“I love your scent”, kissing his voluptuous lips. 

His lips left Melkor’s to follow the path his fingers traced; and when his tongue found its way to his nipple, Mairon heard him gasp lightly. Mairon looked up at his face, enraptured by his look of pure pleasure: that passion in his eyes was all for him. 

Melkor shelved with shut eyes as Mairon stood before him and pushed his undergarments off his hips. When his mouth returned to his chest he shuddered. His response made Mairon smile against his skin. 

"Finally," Mairon murmured, “You quiver for me”. 

“Never like you”, smiled Melkor, testing his words immediately, tracing light and sensual circles with his fingertips on his back. 

Mairon’s body shivered with need as he felt the effects of his touch in places he had not yet visited. 

“Your skin is so reactive”, admiring his face lost in a calm pleasure. 

“It’s your fingertips”, replied Mairon opening the eyes, “You move them in a heavenly way and your hands are so hot and possessive”. 

Mairon continued to kiss his chest, fighting the need of loose himself, not yet, not so quickly, as the hands danced over his strong ass. 

Melkor simply tilted his head back breathing deeply, tickling Mairon’s hand with the long hair gathered in a low tail. He was getting impatient but he decided to take that time for his sensations and to let Mairon do what he desired. The touch of his soft lips mixed with teeth was amazing and dizzily wild. 

Eventually Mairon could wait no longer to reach his aim. His rigid length moved eagerly in the hand as the fingers closed around him. Melkor stepped backwards towards the bed and Mairon knelt down to press wet kisses to his firm stomach and thighs before focusing around his pulsing cock once again. Savouring it, Mairon rubbed his thumb along the underside and then pressed his lips to the base of his shaft, teasing with his tongue at the same time. 

Melkor groaned as he placed soft kisses up his length, drawing nearer to the sensitive tip and finally parting his lips to suck and taste the two beads that oozed eventually. 

“Mmmm”, Mairon moaned, vibrating his lips against his tip, circling his tongue erotically. 

Melkor started with a light movement of his hips from side to side, just to rub the head against his lips. He could have came like that, only admiring his lips caressing his cock. 

“Don’t stop”, pleaded Melkor, “You are so good”. 

Mairon had no intention to stop, so he took him fully into his mouth. He bobbed up and down the shaft twice. After he stopped to suck again the tip. Melkor groaned for the overstimulation. He took again his shaft, more deep inside his throat this time, until no air passed in the back of it. Mairon quivered for the feral experience of choking himself with his cock and pulled back slowly, to suck again the tip with tiny noises. And then again, inside the mouth to choke around the man. 

With that third overstimulation, Melkor came growling deeply, spending his seed on his lips, the legs hard in tension, the eyes on that marvellous creature and the senses totally done.  
Few short breaths and he lifted Mairon, landing him on the bed. The younger man gasped for the unexpected action but laughed with tenderness. Melkor observed enchanted his fresh laugh. He would have done it again only to see Mairon laugh again. 

Then, he dedicated himself to Mairon’s pleasure. The tongue started to tease the sensitive point on his neck tempted to bite it with intensity, even with fury…but that moment was all for tenderness. 

Mairon moaned feeling his wet tongue against that spot on his neck, the one that Melkor discovered some days before. He crossed his leg around his back for he enjoys to be twisted together, every time. 

Melkor continued moving slowly, tracing a downward spiral with the tip of the tongue, the hands gently caressed the middle and the sides of his chest, the fingers never reaching his taut pierced nipples but playing around them. 

Mairon gasped, desperate for more, the whole body quivering violently; every single nerve inside him seemed to unravel from the nipples and to end into the groin, that was, for him in that very moment, the centre of his fire. So he ran his fingers through his hair, messing completely his tail, to encourage Melkor’s incredible and hot mouth lower, to reach those precious spots of him. 

Melkor smirked and decided to satisfy him, finally, sliding the tongue around his pink nipple, enjoying the moans flowing freely from his mouth. And when he started to suck it and tug intensely with his teeth, Mairon arched his back crying lightly, sensually and his cock twitched pressed against Melkor’s belly. 

When Melkor started to twist harshly both the nipples with his fingers, the few rational thought left to him evaporated definitely, starting to cry without shame. Mairon loved all that attention on his skin, he loved how Melkor was soft and hard, cruel and attentive at the same time, and he loved how Melkor adored his nipples with passion. He paused and Mairon opened the eyes, breathing a bit faster. 

“Take me”, Melkor whispered, meeting his mouth in a demanding kiss. He sucked his tongue down into the mouth, scraping it lightly with his teeth. They were both groaning and Melkor was hard again. 

“There’s a lube sack in the first drawer”, suggested Mairon. 

Melkor moved to take it, separating their hot and eager bodies. Mairon turned himself and sat on his own knees. Then Melkor opened it, spreading the sticky fluid into his hands before slicking his cock with a stimulant massage. 

The younger man followed every single movement of his big and hot hands: that massage was a perfect way to arouse him even further. And Mairon took him as Melkor lay with his back against the pillows at the headboard. From someplace deep within his mind, as he slid his cock inside the man, Mairon heard himself moaning like an echo and he returned the echo consciously. 

And Melkor embraced Mairon with all his tenderness, feeling his erection sliding inside him, slowly and carefully. Melkor pushed himself downward to press their lips together, the tongue searching desperately for any part of his mouth he could reach, as the satisfying pressure of his length enclosed within him. One hand wandered down Mairon’s back, enjoying the play of muscles beneath his fingers and caressing his smooth perfect buttocks.  

But Mairon slid out of his body all of a sudden, lowering Melkor’s body a little  and repositioning himself to join their lips in the most perfect way. Then he slid again inside him, stopping almost immediately to keep the focus, to avoid to come so soon. Then he began to move his hips and kissed him deeply. Melkor’s arms enveloped totally him, and now Mairon was satisfied in that hot hug. And Melkor devoured him with hungry kisses, impeding him to split their bodies in whichever possible way.

Then Mairon increased the pace, drawing more moans from his throat as, with faster thrusting, Melkor felt the stimulation against the soft spot inside him and also his cock, pressed against Mairon’s stomach, was heavily aroused. 

Even if it was Mairon who was penetrating him, the younger man felt that it was Melkor who was consuming him, reaching deep inside his essence with his passionate kisses, piercing flesh and soul. He was stealing him fully with his burning desire, and Mairon felt beautifully helpless.  
He was beyond speech, beyond thought, as an incredible climax shook and cracked his body.  
Also Melkor came, almost together, for the second time that night. 

Now the warm and low light from the lamp makes the situation even more intimate. Melkor is caressing his hair and savouring his lips, playing with their tongues. 

Even if Mairon’s cock is softening and naturally sliding outside, he’s still buried inside him. And they’re still kissing, unwilling of break that moment. Too completed they feel, too perfect in that hug. 

It’s Mairon’s body that betrays him shivering lightly with cold; Melkor feels his skin getting colder and he breaks the kiss. 

“Are you feeling cold?” 

“Mmm”, murmurs annoyed Mairon, asking for another kiss. 

“I keep you in my arms, just let me do one simple thing”, says Melkor, tensing his abdomen to lift their bodies to reach the heavy blanket. 

Mairon takes his opportunity to kiss his strong abs, smiling under the kisses, feeling the blanket that covers their bodies. Then he kisses him again. 

“All these kisses-”, smiles Melkor. 

“Insatiable”, says Mairon, actually feeling Melkor’s cock hardening little by little under his body. 

“It’s you who turn me on constantly”, Melkor whispers, brushing a lock of coppery hair over his ear. 

“Are you hungry?”, asks Mairon kissing his nose and placing quietly his head on his chest. 

“A little” 

“Me too, what time is?”, asks Mairon. 

“11:57, says your alarm clock” 

“It’s fifteen minutes fast”, replies Mairon, “Too late to order pizza… it’s Friday”. 

At the sound of that word Tevildo, who’s sleeping on the other side of the bed, meows loudly. 

“Disinterested the guy over there”, smiles Melkor. 

“He loves my favourite pizza. Egg, cheese and asparagus” 

“Incredible” 

“Actually cats enjoy asparagus”, then he adds, “No pizza today, Tevildo. And you have already eaten”. 

The cat closes his eyes in sign of protest. 

“What about home-made salty crepes, ready in only 20 minutes?”, asks Mairon smiling lightly.

As answer, Melkor’s stomach rumbles having hunger pangs.

 

* 

Placing himself comfortably on Melkor’s chest again, he would ask him hundred things about his life but he doesn’t know from which point to start. 

Melkor has – to say the least – an interesting life, from many points of view.  
He became famous even during his first year of University when he designed and realised, all by himself, two amazing temporary sculptures, one in the northern part of the land and the other one in the southern zone. Two huge lamps they were, that lighted the night sky up dimly for three months before giving the real spectacle. In fact they were made of some particular raw materials that, reaching respectively the most cold and the most hot point, changed their inner chemical composition; it turned out that one got frozen breaking into million pieces and the other one flared up with only one day of difference, making that fact even more incredible. The newspapers described that extravaganza like ‘The event of the millennium’. And Bauglir became one of the most famous man in the world. Mairon was too young to remember it properly but for sure he saw something on the TV, something that truly shocked him as, still now, he recalls the sensation around that event. 

“How long have you had insomnia?”, asks Mairon, glancing at his laptop near them, waiting to be used, with a curious Tevildo that’s smelling it. 

“Well”, starts Melkor, “It’s not really insomnia. Only the fact that I give my best during night” 

“I’m dead during night” 

“To me these are the most productive hours of the whole day and I cannot sleep if I don’t invest five or six hours working. So, yes, from that point of view it’s a kind of insomnia as my brain can’t relax fully” 

Mairon nods. 

“Is it a problem for you if I work while you’re sleeping?” 

“No, no”, replies Mairon, “Absolutely not. I sleep in whatever condition”. 

“How many hours do you sleep per day?”, asks again Mairon. 

“Normally I fall asleep around 3 and four/four hours and half are enough for me” 

“Only four hours”, utters Mairon, “I would be a zombie the whole day. I need at least eight hours to be presentable” 

Melkor smiles, stroking his hair. 

“But during weekends I like to have some nap during the early afternoon or even sleep until the 10 in the morning. That helps a lot to recharge batteries for the whole week” 

“During the weekend I sleep twelve hours to recharge them” 

“Well”, laughs Melkor, “Who’s the older here?” 

Mairon giggles, tightening his grab at the man.  
Then he speaks without thinking: 

“How many relationships you got?” 

Melkor doesn’t answer right away, he just keeps with the stroking of his hair. 

“Not so much how you would expect, especially if you follow the press”, says eventually Melkor, pausing again. “For sure all wrong”, he adds with a dose of clarity. 

“My first relationship”, he goes ahead, “was during university with your professor”. 

“This cannot be!”, utters Mairon, looking at him with disgusted face, “He’s so old!”. 

“Not older than me”, explains Melkor, “He’s of the same year of mine. Actually we studied together at university”. 

“He looks so older!” 

“Well”, replies Melkor with a huge smirk of satisfaction, “It’s his lack of creativity! My creativity keeps me younger”. 

“It must be like so”, comments Mairon. Then: “What happened between you two?” 

“Well”, explains Melkor, “Our different visions brought us to fight as we lived symbiotically our work together. We took different paths because we developed different conceptions and so we did with our personal lives. To be honest, all my relationships ended with a fight as soon as my satisfaction in them vanished”. 

“Now I understand why he didn’t want me to do the thesis about you”. 

Melkor bursts out with a deep laugh. “And how you ended winner?” 

“Easy to explain”, smiles Mairon, “I threatened to change my supervisor, that was him. He didn’t want to lose the best student of the year so he swallowed hard and accepted my project”. 

“You know how the academic world works”, continues Mairon, “I think there’s a kind of silent competition between professors to have the best students in their ranks, probably also for financial reasons. So I just took advantage from that disgusting situation”. 

“I would have done the same”, smiles Melkor, kissing his forehead, “I know perfectly how that world runs, for that reason I left the university to all those super intelligent men and I chose a practical pathway”. 

“You had a story also with that classical dancer, don’t you?”, asks Mairon. 

“Not at all”, replies Melkor, “I only needed a partner for that night, to accept that thing, the Silmaril award, for my design creation. And that woman was the perfect choice, to promote the both of us. But, apparently, she got the best as her career simply got a jump-start after that event”. 

“The press reported so many stories about you” 

“All fake”, says Melkor, “But I don’t care about the press. Whatever the journalists write, it helps me”, smiles Melkor. 

“You’ve just said…’as long as your satisfaction vanished in your relationships’ ”, says Mairon. 

“Yes”

“What you mean exactly?”. 

Melkor breaths out loudly. 

“I think I tend to be very challenging in a relationship, especially if it involves creativity”, Melkor explains as he keeps with his hair stroking, “I simply cannot image to have a story with a person that doesn’t share with me the guiding force of my life but, at the same time, it implies a sort of inner battle to abuse of that creativity. And, in a way or another, the story has implicitly its end”. 

“So”, says Mairon, “You’re telling me that, at the end, you will destroy me”. 

That is exactly what Mairon tried so hard to avoid with him from the beginning: a relationship that shall finish with destruction or self-destruction.

“Do you feel a battle between us?”, asks Melkor. 

“I cannot say I feel a battle” 

“But?” 

“A kind of…spur” 

“I don’t feel any kind of competition with you, Mairon. And, believe me, that’s the first time in my life” 

“Because you consider me lower in hierarchy and less capable than you, Mr. Narcissist”, Mairon lifts from the hug to look at him straight in the eyes. 

“Because I consider you worthy of my art and, above all, a kind of inspiration for it”, says Melkor in one breath, almost growled. His voice is gravelly and his expression is taut. But he hugs again Mairon and presses his head against the chest. 

Mairon, after a short moment of pure shock for his reaction, tightens the grasp around his stomach. 

“And probably I’m too much possessive as I can’t  see my partner as a separate person”, says Melkor, continuing his speech, again with a calm tone.

“Oh”, says Mairon, “I really appreciate your truth speaking but now I feel scared as you have just confirmed that you are a narcissist” 

“Mairon”, says Melkor, “Look at me" 

Mairon looks at him in his eyes and Melkor’s hand reached his chin to lift his face a bit more. 

“Probably I’m a narcissist, as you say since two weeks, but”, he pauses a while, “Nothing, nothing of what I’ve experienced in the past is from a distance comparable to you”. 

Mairon doesn’t know if he has to believe his words.  
And Melkor feels his doubt. 

“You know why, Mairon?”, so he continues. 

Mairon shakes his head. 

“It’s you that is different”, says Melkor giving him a peck, “And me with you”. 

Mairon watches carefully his lips as he speaks, and he smiles lightly as a deep and warm feeling floods into him. 

“Like never before”, Melkor whispers on his lips and, instead of giving him more words, he kisses him passionately. 

Melkor lips brushes his, hot, fiery and demanding. Mairon would pull away before he loses himself but simply he can’t. In this moment, his senses have been seduced and he can no longer think straight about life, worries or creativity. 

“Mairon” he whispers slowly, as if Melkor would savour his name exactly like he’s savouring his lips. 

Mairon smiles, his heart so fast at his deep voice and his hand rests below Melkor’s ear, his thumb caressing his cheek as their breaths mingles. 

Melkor runs his fingers down his spine, enjoying Mairon’s shivers, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between them, resting his cheek against the top of his head. 

Like so Mairon falls asleep, in his hot and strong arms, in his rich and intoxicated skin scent, feeling protected from every kind of bad thought. 

* 

When he opens the eyes, the alarm clock says 02:42 a.m.  
Tevildo’s nails are playing innocently against his belly, waking him up from his deep sleep. The cold and metallic light from Melkor’s laptop makes him want to turn around and watch him silently. 

Melkor is all focused in his work; he puts in place the eyeglasses on the nose bridge with a quick movement of his index. His lips, so well-shaped and sensual, are lightly parted but just for a second, only for the time necessary to take a sip from the glass before putting it on the bedside table.  
His profile is perfect, with the prominent  jawline and his angular features. The hair, straight and black as the night, is gathered in a high tail giving him a more elegant aspect.  
Probably the most fascinating man he has ever seen. 

“Damn”, Melkor murmurs, twitching the corner of the mouth, as he checks something in his laptop. 

“What’s the matter?”, asks softly Mairon with his sleepy voice. 

Melkor turns the head to watch him. Sleepy eyes, dishevelled long coppery hair, half curled up on the stomach and calm breath.  
Mairon is simply perfect. 

“I need you to go to real estate registry office on Monday”, says Melkor. 

Mairon snorts. 

“Why are you awake?” 

“I’ve just woken up” 

Melkor turns his laptop off, placing it on the floor along with his eyeglasses before lying in the bed facing Mairon. 

“Now a question for you” 

“Interesting”, replies Mairon, “But nothing difficult as I’m still sleeping”

“Your relationships” 

“Two minutes topic”, laughs Mairon, “As I had only a six years long relationship” 

“Six years?”, utters Melkor, “Probably if I add all my relationships together I reach six years” 

“I’m not a narcissist”, says sarcastically Mairon. 

“Ok but six years…almost married” 

“We lived together for two years”, Mairon explains.

Melkor has never been able to live together with someone else and, conscious of this, he has never tried.  
And the idea of Mairon with another man disturbed him gravely. 

“You grew up together”, Melkor says eventually, trying to dissolve the annoyance. 

“Until the day I realised we had two different speeds of life” 

“Ambition?”

“Also but”, Mairon pauses a while, “Nothing inside the story inflamed me longer. It’s sad and odd to say but, with me or without me, that story could have continued eternally” 

“Well”, Melkor says, stroking his red locks between his fingers, “I think there are two common and indefensible errors with you. The first is to confuse your calm with mildness or even tameability”, 

‘True’, thinks Mairon observing him silently.  
How, how he’s so good in understanding him? 

“The second is to consider you assumed or taken for granted, on the contrary you are a challenge”, says Melkor, “A beautiful challenge, however a challenge. Or a war, if you like it best”. 

“A war?” 

“You seems so calm and mellow”, Melkor explains, “And really you are because it’s a part of your being but, under all that tranquillity, your mind is burning lava and, as me, you have a creative and destructive soul at once”. 

Mairon frowns his forehead. 

“I’m not a destructor”, Mairon answers after a little moment of silence. 

“You are”, says Melkor, “You destroyed me two weeks ago. And, as you did it, you felt not guilt”

“That’s another matter” 

“No, Mairon, it’s the same matter”, Melkor continues, “In the beginning I thought you were the typical person with high sense of guilty but I was totally wrong”

“When I was young I lived chronically in a guilty state, I think the effect of living with my parents. But now I feel no remorse or guilt. Simply no longer they belong to me as they are no longer mine”

“Yes”, caressing his cheek, “A creator and a destructor”, continues Melkor, “Every perception of creativity has its potentiality of aggression or denial. In every experience of it something in the past is killed for something new in the present born”

Mairon could spend the whole night listening to his smooth voice in bliss; him, so seductive, so different with his chaotic visions and viewpoints, like a music from his past that he doesn’t remember but he sings every night in his dreams. 

“Mostly it’s a part of our being that we sacrifice, sometimes consciously, sometimes it’s the price we have to pay. And sometimes we have to sacrifice the other ones. Irony of the fate, we are more inclined to…throw away others than ourselves”

“Kiss me”, Mairon whispers. 

And Melkor hugs him close to him, wrapping Mairon in the arms, kissing him slowly at  first, just to taste again his lips and his skin scent.  
Then, with more confidence his lips takes Mairon’s. His tongue presses gently and his mouth opens to him. Melkor’s hand goes around his neck as he weaves their bodies together.  Tongue meet tongue, exploring each other, enjoying the taste of each other's mouths. 

Mairon feels his strong hand around his neck and the other one insinuating between the mattress and his body. In that hug so possessive, Mairon belongs to him.  
They kiss until the both of them fall asleep, sleeping the whole night in their hot and enveloping hug. 

 

*** Saturday 

“Where we eat this evening?”, asks Melkor when they get out of the bed, around the 10.30 a.m., “If you want to go somewhere we need to book a reservation”. 

“Uhm?”, comments Mairon not completely awake as he braids his hair, while a too much awake Tevildo is rubbing against his ankles. 

“No existential questions before coffee?”, Melkor smiles watching his lovely sleepy face. 

“Yeah”, answer Mairon, “No, I would be happier to stay at home” 

“Ok, we stay at home”, Melkor replies. 

“You like to go out, don’t you?” 

“Let’s say that with my work I have to, but I like it, yes. It’s always interesting and stimulating to meet people: sometimes it’s like a game, sometimes it’s only business, sometimes it’s pure entertainment” 

“The fact is that I’m not exactly one to go out the night. I don’t like it as I don’t like crowded places in general” 

 “We spend all the week around town. Let me make you dinner” 

“Oh”, replies Mairon in surprise, as that exactly is his idea of romantic evening together, “I can’t wait to see that!” 

* 

As the wine changed from pungent to sweet, the scent of the beef that’s cooking in its bath of red strong spirits  and spices is positively intoxicating and tantalizing: exactly like the man who’s cooking it. And watching him manoeuvring in the small kitchen feeling completely at ease is even more astonishing. It’s not only the fact that he’s cooking for him: not only. But also that, Melkor took his car to buy all the things he needed to make their night special. And, moreover, it happened while Mairon was having a shower. 

“Just when I thought I’ve seen everything with you, you come with this”, says Mairon accepting a glass filled with three fingers of the rich red wine left. 

“Now it’s you who are underestimating me”, says Melkor, frowning his forehead, “You really thought I could eat in the restaurants every day?”. 

“Yes”, Mairon replies candidly. 

“I'm going to let that go”, smiles Melkor, “But that’s right, Mairon, to be skeptical before trying things”. 

Mairon sips the wine before giving the glass to him. And that sentence from Melkor popped up a question in his head, a thing that’s tormenting him since three weeks, even before their relationship developed. 

“Listen”, he utters, as Melkor takes his sip from the glass they’re sharing, “How what happened in the tube _that day_ influenced the decision of hiring me?”. 

“Honestly”, answers Melkor, “It didn’t. Your thesis did”. 

Mairon tilts the head on the side and rises his eyebrow with his sarcastic expression. 

“Well”, Melkor continues, “I can’t hide I was surprised and _pleased_ that you, you were the guy who teased me in the tube but your mind and your way of thinking took me” 

“ _The guy who teased you_?” 

“That’s what happened!” 

“What happened was that you pressed your huge cock against my ass!” 

“Wait, wait!”, says Melkor, putting the glass on the table, next to Mairon, “I tried to move but… do you remember how many people there was in the car because of the Expo? And believe me, you cannot image the mob on the platform at my stop. Luckily I’m massive” 

“There was an Expo that day?”, asks Mairon, “Anyway, that’s not the point. You, _you_ teased me” 

“Let’s say so”, Melkor speaks as he bends over Mairon, “I _lent_ my cock against your ass, I swear by accident, and _you_ pressed your ass against me…and you know that’s true”, smirking and raising one hand to cup gently his face, “Because you are _naughty_ and, of course, I provoked you back for I’m _naughty_ too and I live for things like these”. 

Melkor traces the outline of his lips with the tongue and, as he draws back to end the kiss, he sucks out his lower lip, biting a little, then releasing it.  
Mairon feels his knees weak: no one kisses like Melkor. 

“Now”, says Melkor circling Mairon’s narrow hips with the hands, “The meat need at least two hours to be ready. I think we should do something to increase our hunger”. 

Then, breaking the play with his tongue: “And I owe you an orgasm”, says Melkor, “What you want me to do?” 

Mairon can’t resist those lips: “Play with your mouth” 

“I want it too”, smiles Melkor, giving tiny pecks on his lips. 

“fifteen minutes”, adds Mairon, “At least” 

“What you mean?”, asks Melkor, nibbling on his lower lip again. 

“Promise me”, says Mairon seriously, stopping Melkor’s sweet occupation. 

Melkor watches him with puzzled face but he doesn’t ask anything. Simply he lifts Mairon in his arms and drifts him in his bedroom. 

“You like to do this”, comments Mairon, smiling under their kisses, legs already wrapped around his waist. 

“I like to have you in my arms”, Melkor says as he lays Mairon’s body on the bed. 

“And I like to see you dressed with sweatpants and old t-shirt”, undressing him, quietly and with amazing tenderness. 

When it’s his turn to get undress, he only puts the shirt off before sliding down and stretching out on the bed, between Mairon’s legs. 

Mairon is lying on his back leaning on his elbows, watching as Melkor touches him, intrigued by his gentleness, observing how he presses his hands along the inner part of his thighs and urges them apart still brushing his skin, firm but soothing. Mairon quivers, feeling electrifying needles in the groin. His hands, warm and strong, are still on his thighs moving now up his hips in a slow sensual caress. 

Melkor presses the lips against his inner thigh. Soft kisses, following the length with a deliberate haste, again and again, working his way until Mairon can feel the warm breath and the brush of Melkor's cheek on his balls. Mairon holds the breath in anticipation when the man closes his mouth around his cock. 

Mairon lies back on the bed as Melkor brushes past the parted lips against his cock; hot and soft lips draws moans of pleasure from deep within. It feels good, it feels fantastic and Mairon moans lightly. As Melkor could feel his thoughts, he stops suddenly, leaving his cock in the cold air. The younger man looks down at him again, smiling. 

Then Melkor moves to Mairon's balls and the young man gasps when he sucks one tenderly, then the other one, teasing it with his tongue, gently. 

And Mairon tries to hold still, controlling the intense sensation, eyes shut and well-focused, but when Melkor runs deliciously his tongue along the underside of his cock, he moans loudly and grabs the sheet under him. 

With a dull, sexy noise Melkor sucks the head with his full lips, just for one sweet moment. Mairon moves suddenly the hips and breaths out loudly. 

But  Melkor moves to give a little bite on Mairon's stomach, licking then his hipbone; he nuzzles the nose against his lower belly and eventually he makes a love-bite on his groin. 

Mairon giggles, relaxing his grab on the sheet and looks down at him smiling. He likes Melkor’s love bites, especially when the man sucks so strongly his groin. 

“You like to be teased like this, beyond the void into oblivion”, Melkor says, answering to his smile.

But the only response he gets is Mairon’s little squeak when he moves to stroke his lips on his frenulum sucking up and down and tilting the head to suck it side to side. 

Then Melkor's mouth envelops him again, all lips and no tongue at work. He knows how to run that game for Mairon’s pleasure. So he bobs up and down the length slowly, tightening his soft grasp with his lips at the base of the cock and humming on purpose, sending sweet vibrations along the length. 

Mairon cries softly, legs bent and back arched as the stimulation is heavenly good. But it’s just a moment, maybe two, and the sensation changes again. A gentle tickling tingle on his cock, and he raises his head to watch Melkor as he’s stroking it with the tip of his fingers. Melkor grins as they eyes meet again and he fingers the slit, cleaning out the drop sucking it with his lips. 

Mairon groans and puts his head back. He will never ever be able to look at Melkor's mouth without thinking about all that pleasure. 

Holding the base of his cock in the hand, Melkor moves again the lips back and forth over the ridge between the head of the cock and the base. He moves only about few centimetre before starting to stroke the whole length, turning the wrist back and forth as he moves up and down. 

Releasing the cock from his grab, he gently and competently uses the teeth along the surface of the shaft, and trails the tongue behind them immediately. Mairon’s so aflame that he accidentally cries out loudly. 

And, with Mairon’s cry, Melkor changes again, pushing up Mairon's legs: 

“Like so”, he says with his deep voice, making Mairon immediately grab behind his knees and pull his legs to his chest. 

Melkor cups his perfect ass into his strong hands, pushing him forward to lick it. As he doesn’t reach his hole straight away, but meticulously traces the path down with the tip of the tongue. Mairon takes a huge gasp of air as Melkor’s tongue reaches his opening, digging the nails in his own skin, and he can’t stop moaning in despair as it’s amazing and soft and unbearable. 

Melkor stops for a while, enjoying the view of his legs tensed and trembling; then he goes back with those pleasant licks circling the rim. And when he pushes his tongue gently inside his body and starts with slow and calm thrusts, Mairon feels so blessed. But then Melkor tugs at his legs pulling them down and his mouth is again around Mairon's cock and now he’s sucking and licking with lips and tongue with purpose, to give Mairon his relief. 

After a total of twenty-three minutes of satisfying worship, Mairon comes crying shamelessly in a way that has never been possible before. He comes so hard that, at the end, he feels weak and totally empty, breathless on the bed, yearning only for a glass of water and a deep, endless hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here the link: [Melkor and Mairon by immortabeloved](https://immortabeloved.tumblr.com/post/159560208160/learn-the-tube-chapter-7-illustration)
> 
> Just...guess who is the 'classical dancer' mentioned by Melkor?! ^.^


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another week of work. Melkor is Melkor.  
> And Mairon is Mairon :)

***Monday, the fifth week 

As Melkor preannounced during their Saturday’s night together, Mairon’s plan for that day is the Land Registry office. 

Like every day the younger man stepped in his place, exactly 5 minutes after him, greeting him again and placing the little tray with the strong hot coffee cup on his desk.  
Only Melkor’ scent can surpass the smell of the morning coffee. 

“As you required, Mr. Bauglir”, said Mairon, setting the classic bunch of registered letters near the tray, “I got one appointment at the Land Registry in the afternoon to register the plan for Angband”. 

“Who will receive you there?”, asked Melkor, with a disgusted smirk on his face. 

“Mrs. Kementari from the department for business, energy and environment strategy” 

Few time Mairon has heard his boss swearing under his breath and that was one of those, as he was close enough to hear him. 

“We will have trouble?”, asked Mairon, glancing at him. 

“Sure”, replied Melkor half growled. 

“I will use my appeal, if necessary”, played around Mairon.

Melkor swallowed back the pang of jealousy, feeling the blood vessel under his right eye pulsing lightly but repeatedly. 

“That’s why I’m sending you there”, made a joke Melkor, helping himself to keep the calm, recalling what he felt only twenty-four hours before. 

“Here”, Melkor changed conversation topic, rolling the detailed site plan at a scale of 1:100, fulfilled during Sunday, spent at home working alone, “It’s appropriately scaled, depicting the land and the building to be compliant with the requirements of the Land Registry”. 

“It’s also required the location plan at a scale of 1:1250”, said Mairon, “It’s on my desk as I did it yesterday, I bring it here for a double crosscheck” 

“Not necessary”, commented Melkor with his deep voice, glancing at his perfect ass when Mairon turned himself, “I know it’s perfect”. 

“Better to have your full approve”, Mairon replied, “Moreover I’m going to enrol it as temporary so we can replace it with a more detailed one when the urban planning will be ready”. 

So the morning passed with a normal pace until the end of lunch break, when Mairon’s steps moved away from his open space to leave the building to accomplish his bureaucratic Monday, an endless half day inside many offices. 

And with the sound of Mairon’s heavy boots in the distance, Melkor’s stomach is taken by the same sensation he felt the previous day at home.  
He tried to dissolve the bad thought the whole Sunday with poor results, blaming something abstract but, now, in his office, the second place in the world in which he does his best, that kind of fight is going on back and forth.  
Melkor feels _isolated_. 

During his early childhood, Melkor painfully learnt to be soulfully self-sufficient. Thing that his brother, probably because he is the second born, has never learnt; contrary Manwë developed an obsessive and possessive - even paranoid - love-hunger towards him: a defensive mechanism to deal with their father’s neglect-of-fact.  
For that reason Manwë has a fragile personality intended to protect deeper feelings of inadequacy and incompetence: if Melkor has always felt superior, seeking every possible revenge or going into a vicious rage, Manwë’s self-perception has swung back and forth between sentiment from superior to inferior, depending on what was going on in his life at the moment of the feeling, always searching for their father’s benediction and approval or even in comparing his life with Melkor’s.  
That imprint marked Melkor’s behaviour in relational aspect. Indeed he has never felt lonely in his entire conscious life, even less in all kind of relations because he is the man who avoids suffocating people, who tends to depend on him completely.  
But with his partners the development is different as the possessiveness is the main trait of the story: not only the idea of dominating, to have the full control over someone, but the suspicious really ruined the fragile trust between him and the partners. That inclination, as a matter of fact, destroyed all the stories he had. 

But, now, it seems that he’s becoming dependent on his assistant, both from a professional and a personal point of view. The idea of being without _him_ is killing Melkor exactly as it happened the day before.  
In the abyss of his soul everything is permeated with silence and, in his internal void, he has always found the _nothingness_ that unveils the truth of everything, allowing him to expand his fervid creativity.  
Apparently this divine solitude – that he considers one strong point of his being - is not working anymore and Melkor doesn’t know how to face this unpredictable change.  
His mind, that last Sunday, was productive only because a location plan doesn’t need any kind of artistic impulse but only the numerical accuracy, thing that comes natural to him; and a thought started to consume him: what if in his desolated but productive silence he could no longer create?  
And the evidence is at his fingers as his words are becoming clear to him also: it happened only two weeks before that he embraced Mairon, in his kitchen, telling him that he was not going to be alone, nevermore.  
He really believed in his own words because he spoke in truth and he was serious about them and him.  
But the fact that those words were destined to be true also for him…no, that was not contemplated. 

*** In the tube 

In the exact moment in which Melkor puts the idea of seeing him up once again that day, he catches that unique hair. 

“Such a bastard you are”, Mairon comments the whole draining day, breathing heavily for the run he did to take the tube, “Luckily I don’t need to…” 

Instantly Melkor wraps him in his arms, so eager to spend some minutes with him, to kiss him deeply and demandingly. His kiss is a cocktail of need and evaporated sadness. It's the hard kiss of a person who’s grabbing something he thought he had lost.  It's lips and tongues and teeth, and before it's over, Mairon’s arms are wrapped around his neck, responding with all the passion he feels in that hot embrace, running the fingers through his dark hair. 

And Melkor’s mouth travels, the lips seeks Mairon’s earlobe out, nibbling gently at his uncountable piercings until he hears him gasp and tremble. 

And Melkor sweetly understands how he need Mairon in his arms. A torment, Mairon is the sweetest torment of his soul and he’s lost and no heaven nor hell can save him now.  
And he would tell him what he’s feeling at the moment but he’s afraid of exposing himself.  
He’s not sensibly ready for this.  
He is not. 

“I missed you”, yet Melkor whispers unwittingly on his lips. 

Mairon hints at a smile, “You too”, he whispers, before kissing him once again. 

 

***Tuesday 

Melkor’s mood is impressively high thanks to the comforting idea that Mairon is going to work the full day with him. So, when Mairon enters his office holding two little trays, he simply smiles unnoticed and he doesn’t see the two big cups of strong and steaming coffee. The assistant places Melkor’s hot cup on his desk, before him. And his cup is set exactly on the other side of his desk, in front of him. Then, Mairon reaches the door to close it, but this time without locking it. 

Melkor doesn’t comment at all, it’s not necessary: the message is clear as in that very moment he catches fully the meaning of the word ‘déjà-vu’; this time he doesn’t label it as ‘another Mairon’s weird thing’ but he fights with all his strength to not give whatever sign of inappropriateness. Proud, too proud he is to be wasted again by the younger man. 

Then, Mairon sits in the chair in front of him, steaming cup in the hand, sipping the full and rounded coffee, watching his boss inquisitively, without hiding the light smirk painted on the lips: the study of Melkor’s reaction is the most interesting thing planned for that day. 

Melkor puts his photochromic eyeglasses off, revealing his beautiful cold blue eyes. He doesn’t take the cup, even if he desired that coffee since when he woke up some hours before, but simply crosses his arms at the chest waiting for the first step. 

They spends some seconds look at each other. Melkor could see it in his eyes, all his plan painted also on his smirking lips. But no, not this time Mairon is going to destroy him. 

“In the afternoon we get the shipping with the material for the Angband model”, Mairon breaks the tension, enjoying the view of his boss and the coffee, “So, tomorrow I will start with it. I’m pretty good with models so I think it will be ready in one week or one week and half”. 

Melkor doesn’t speak as he knows that Mairon would not build up such a scene for some mere service information. 

All the game is playing in their eyes, and it’s a war of attrition. Mairon’s eyes sparkle intensely and with fascination. Melkor’s are alert and attentive yet calm and unperturbed, trying to catch the slightest clue that could reveal him the plan. 

Obviously it’s Melkor who gives up for first: “What’s the matter”, he affirms more than ask. 

Mairon’ smirk widens: “You need your brother’s money” 

“You’ve gone off the deep end”, and now all the tension turns into pure anger, “I’m one of the most rich and influent men in the world, or probably the most one”, speaks Melkor with a gruff tone of voice, as  usual when he’s angry. 

“That’s true, Mr. Bauglir”, says Mairon, “In truth if you _fail_ the bank will take everything from you”, says Mairon placing the half empty cup on the little tray before him. 

“ _Fail_?!”, growls Melkor, showing his teeth, only one step from choke him with his hands. 

But Mairon continues, giving no importance to his boss’s overdone reaction: “Your office”, opening his arms to show the place, “You attic, your car, your money and so on”, crossing his arms on his chest, “However I don’t think the idea of a debt with the bank is a good idea, for that reason you need a warrantor, even only for pro forma. We could cover the amount half with the bank and half with one important sponsor, your brother ” 

“I’m the warrantor of myself”, states Melkor this time with proud but calm voice, “My word and my signature worth more than other things” 

“Mr. Ancalagon doesn’t think so” 

“He’s a mere bookkeeper”, Melkor snaps at him. 

“I would not define the most important bank manager of the land as a bookkeeper” 

“But that’s what he is” 

“The bookkeeper described your work ‘ambitiously too much enormous even for Mr. Bauglir’– in his words”, says Mairon taking another sip from the cup. 

“I don’t demand him to understand my work, I’m not so cruel”, Melkor replies, rising his eyebrow. 

“From an economical point of view I got to hand it to the cold numbers that’s like so” 

“Mairon, you know that our project will change the face of the whole land” 

“I know, Mr. Bauglir, for that is why I’m searching for alternatives”, Mairon says, getting off the chair and taking with him the little tray with his cup; then, walking towards the door, he adds: 

“I’m going to give you abundant time to ponder about it: to refuse to cover the total amount with the bank and to meditate on alternatives, like the one I suggested you”, Mairon lies shamelessly, “That is, again, a mere pro forma but necessary”. 

As a matter of fact, one month, one year or ten years will not change Melkor’s working vanity; so, Mairon feels the duty to make sure it happens.

 

***In the tube 

“To the void and beyond”, Melkor utters, “How the fuck are you good in making me pissed off”, wrapping the arms around his body. 

“I hate it when you come with two cups in my office”, Melkor continues, “Why don’t we take the good routine to do it every day? So we can turn a detestable habit of yours into something more appropriate to our status?”. 

Mairon listens carefully: “Which would be our status, exactly?” 

“Chief and assistant” 

“Banal”, Mairon twists his lips, “I would expect something better from your volcanic mind, Mr. Bauglir” 

“Linked” 

“Like a chain? Like two dogs on a chain?”, Mairon says sarcastically. 

“Tevildo would not approve the comparison”, laughs Melkor. 

“So what Tevildo would approve?” 

“Why should I put a label upon us?” 

“Yeah, that’s right” 

“After all the only thing counting is what we are when we are together” 

“Oh, such a poet”, Mairon says, making a fool of him, “A nice way to say nothing” 

“Contrary”, Melkor whispers on his lips, “I mean we are _Perfection_ ”. 

 

***Wednesday 

The phone in his office rings. 

“Yes?”, Melkor’s deep voice resounds in the room. 

“Mr. Bauglir, I put Lady Kementari from the Registry Land on”, Mairon replies. 

“Fuck”, utters Melkor with disconsolate voice, anticipating the long and quarrelling call he’s going to be subjected to. 

A long, boring call, thinks Mairon almost at the same time, as he silently glides into Melkor’s office, locking the door behind him.  
Is a duty of an assistant to make the boss’ job more easy, isn’t it? 

“It will really only affect me in terms of the registration fees applicable?”, Melkor says watching him curiously and gradually turning his leather chair as the younger man, approaching, takes the little pillow placed on the second chair in his boss’ office. 

The hope is that he would enjoy to repeat the experience they had the previous week and, when Mairon tosses the pillow at his feet and falls on his knees, smiling sensually all the time, Melkor automatically spreads his legs, smiling at him, no longer having doubts glancing at Mairon’s alluring smirk. 

The fingers slides over his thighs, enjoying the soft cloth of Melkor’s suit: the perfect combination under the skin, thinks Mairon, between his strong muscles and the silky fabric.  
Little by little he works his way up the waistline, looking him in the eyes without breaking the contact, unbuttoning the button temptingly, with slow motions of his long fingers. 

And Melkor mouths silently ‘Naughty’ to him while Mairon teasingly unzips the zip using his teeth, alongside brushing his chin on his cock for the whole path down.  
He smiles in a depraved way, as Mairon lifts the shirt up to disclose the muscular stomach. 

Mairon misses his amazing mouth and he really would kiss him but his lips are busy on the call; his lower belly, however, is a perfect alternative. So he starts to place little pecks following the undergarments elastic, nuzzling the hardening cock through the pants with the fingers. 

Melkor clears his throat before replying to the lady on the call, without any kind of change in his deep and collected voice. 

Mairon laughs under the kisses lightly, seriously impressed by how his voice keeps the lower and unmodified tone in spite of what is happening. He struggled a lot and some sighs slipped out uncontrolled.  
It would be interesting, make him beg in that situation.  
Mairon’s smirk widens. 

“Let me check my planner to set a date”, says Melkor, bending himself lightly back along with the chair to grab at it. 

Mairon takes advantages to slide his pants down to expose his hard cock at the cold air together with his balls. 

“It would be easier if you simply send it to me here at my office”, continues Melkor, “Shipping cost on me, of course, via private courier; it would take no more than twenty-four hours”, smiling at Mairon, who keeps the eyes on him continuously. 

And Mairon takes the head of his throbbing cock into the hot mouth. 

Melkor nearly explodes inside that intense and silky warmness of Mairon’s mouth but he closes the eyes and focuses on the unpleasant conversation. 

Mairon smirks as the sight of his eyes shut. He’s doing it well.  
Keeping him in the mouth, he twirls the tongue around it, massaging his cock softly. But Melkor’s hand balls in a tight fist and he quivers violently when Mairon swirls his tongue around the tip deliciously. 

Mairon smirks quickly before enveloping the whole shaft, centimetre by centimetre; and he looks up innocently, closing the eyes just for a second and opening them again, to stare at Melkor while he’s going down.  
Reaching the base, he tightens the grasp with his lips and deep-throats the whole entire length. 

Melkor stands still, almost frozen, feeling pleasantly his throat contracted around his huge cock. He would scream, he really would do it but instead he shivers lightly. 

“Beyond all reasonable doubt this should be a duty of your office, correct me if I’m wrong”, replies Melkor, without being distracted from Mairon’s skilful blowjob, “And I’m never wrong”. 

Mairon works the mouth up the cock to flick the tip with the tongue. Then he engulfs the shaft again to reach the back of the throat, again. And his hand fondles the balls at the same time, cupping and gently squeezing them. 

“It’s important to understand each other and cooperate”, says Melkor with a hint of irritability in his voice, “As I only want to do my job following your directive”. 

And he can’t help, really he can’t, to place his hand on the back of Mairon’s head to beg hard for his relief; the only signals of Melkor’s approaching orgasm are the repeated contractions of the abs, his mouth that cracks open noiselessly but definitely and a little, subtle change in his breath.  
Feeling the movement of Mairon’s head under his touch, Melkor explodes in Mairon’s mouth. 

The younger man hungrily swallows the come, contracting the throat around his majestic cock. Then, cupping his face, he kisses him languidly, slipping the tongue into his mouth, letting him taste his own salty and creamy taste. 

 

***In the tube 

“It was amazing”, comments Melkor, “Now I’m looking forward to get every kind of calls, hopefully very very long” 

“Impressive how you didn’t moan or groan or…nothing” 

“It was difficult” 

“Years of practice with assistants?” 

“Are you jealous?” 

“Nah”, Mairon comments, “Stupid thing to be jealous of someone’s past” 

“I’m jealous”, Melkor confesses. 

“Of course, you’re a narcissist so you compare every situation with _you_ because you are the paragon level” 

“Again with this story”, Melkor replies bothered, “Anyway, Mr. Gorthaur, you are my first assistant” 

“No, it cannot be” 

“Feel free to check on my payroll” 

“How did you managed with all your work?” 

“The last period was unbearable, too much projects, too much commissions one after another. So I decided to hire an assistant” 

“Incredible”, utters Mairon. Then he adds: “Anyhow, getting back to what was important here, I have to admit that was a work booster” 

“These should be two new clauses: coffee together in the morning and blowjobs in the afternoon”, smirks Melkor, “I’ll add them in your labour contract” 

“I could swear it was you who said ‘ _I don’t mix pleasure with work’_ ”, Mairon smiles and rises his eyebrow. 

“See”, says Melkor seriously, caressing his hair, “How a person can change one entire life”. 

 

***Thursday 

The idea is: a public place to have less chance that they would knock the shit out of each other. Perhaps.  
But with Melkor nothing is certain. 

It’s about 11:05 a.m. when Mairon steps in his office swinging the hips in a provocative way. He’s not wearing the suit jackets and the white shirt is slightly unbuttoned, just the necessary to give a quick preview of his collarbones and the seductive neck.  
Well, Melkor enjoys the view and, in truth, he knows perfectly how to manage with the situation approaching. Unfortunately Mairon sits down on the chair that stands on the opposite side of his desk, and, crossing his legs, he starts with his plan. 

“Why don’t we spend the lunch together, Mr. Bauglir?” 

 “Where to go?”, asks immediately Melkor. Mairon’s need of sex during office time is becoming interesting. 

“I was just thinking about the same luxury restaurant we were last Thursday, the dessert was impeccable”, he replies biting and moistening the side of his bottom lip slowly and sensually with a sparkle in his hazel eyes. 

Melkor swears under his breath. “We should book a table as soon as possible”, then he suggests. 

“Already done”, replies Mairon. 

*** 

Melkor noticed the three covers on the table but he didn’t commented, giving the fault to the fact that that place is the best in the city so they’ve a lot of work every day. After all it’s only a small oversight that doesn’t influence the perfect quality and service of the restaurant. And he’s happy, so happy of being with him in an almost normal situation; situation that Mairon asked for; situation that seems to be a need for the both of them. Probably that idea made the younger man a bit thrilled, as Melkor can see, or a bit restless or impatient. Sweet man. So sensitive to their things. 

Mairon feels a bit uncomfortable even if he tries to look like calm and steady as normal; his first concern is how to contain or limit Melkor: it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s going to ask about the third cover. And it’s not easy to contain Melkor. 

And actually Melkor would have stroked lightly Mairon’s hand with his fingertips in a hint of extraordinary empathy and exceptional good mood if a sight didn’t stun him.  
Well, his first reaction would be to strangle the little bastard he considers his assistant and, since two days, something close to his man.  
The second would be to kill his brother. But Melkor simply gets the chair out to leave the best luxury restaurant of the city. 

Manwë, a soft-hearted and needing-of-love-from-his-brother man, at the sight of Melkor that gets out of the chair to greet him, steps forward quickly to meet and wrap him in a strong and sincere hug. 

“Four years, my brother”, Manwë whispers at the base of Melkor’s neck. 

Surrealistic. And Melkor would have left but the idea of leaving Manwë and Mairon there together disturbed him even more than the view of his brother. So he simply stays in silence and anger.  
Then Manwë turns his attention to Mairon.

Mairon stands before shaking his hand: “Mr. Súlimo, it’s a great pleasure” 

“Mr. Gorthaur I’m glad to meet you, finally”, says Manwë, “And thanks for what you’ve done", hugging even him like he was his brother too. 

“I cannot express my feelings, my brother”, starts immediately Manwë once they’re sitting at the table. 

Melkor’s disgusted face expression is obvious and it’s equally shared between his brother and his assistant, as he switches his eyes from a man to the other one. Conspiracy. It’s a conspiracy against him. 

“I feel so fulfilled for our meeting and I know that, since now, everything will be fine and exactly like in the past”, Manwë adds, grabbing his arm. 

Mairon observes Manwë as he speaks: if he had met him in the street, probably he would have confused Manwë with Melkor as their similarity is impressing. Same expression - perhaps Melkor’s a bit more severe because of his emphasised cheekbones - and same features. Focusing on their colours one can spot the differences: Manwë’s eyes are in a warmer shade of blue, as warm as his hair, a wonderful tone of golden brown and his skin is not so pale even if light. Manwë is not as tall and imposing as Melkor but anyhow well-shaped. As a matter of fact, he would reach the toilet with both the brothers. 

“You’re raving!”, replies Melkor with dark voice. 

“Don’t say so, my brother” 

“Let me understand, exactly”, says Melkor, “which is the glorious past that you’re talking about?” 

“When no afflictions tore us apart” 

“I don’t remember a period without afflictions and, in any case, I feel better now with afflictions between us” 

“Brother, don’t be so bitter, please. I’m here with the best purposes” 

“Contrary I’m here without purpose” , states Melkor, before casting a menacing look at Mairon, “And against my will” 

“Stand on your legs and go away, so”, steps in between Mairon, knowing perfectly that Melkor would not have done it. 

Melkor growls at the both of them something obscure. Manwë takes it for a kind of fondness, so he grabs again his arm: 

“Please, calm your choleric temperament. I don’t mind what happened between you and dad-” 

“Of course you don’t!”, Melkor stops him, “It’s not you who fought with him. It’s not you who were disinherited. Incidentally I don’t give a fuck about money but it’s the idea in itself” 

“The only thing I care is our family and you know it” 

“To die would be the least he could have done after ruining our lives” 

“Don’t say so!”, says Manwë with sadness in his eyes, “Look at you. I don’t think you have a bad life as you are the most famous architect of our time. He did something good for the both of us” 

“Open your eyes, Manwë: he hated us. He made us fight each other for preeminence”, says bitterly Melkor, “And he did it so well that we are still here fighting” 

“We are fighting because of you”, replies Manwë. 

“ _You_ , _you_ turned your back at me” 

One eternal moment of silence falls on the quarrel, as Melkor speaks those words. Manwë simply bows his head, closing his eyes and tightening the grab at his beloved brother’s arm. 

In that silence Melkor’s mind quickly and coldly collects all the pieces together. Mairon didn’t organise all this for fraternal harmony’s sake. Mairon is not a saint, rather a man with a remarkable nous and a stellar investment acumen; without counting the things that lie under his skin.  _His_ plan, _their_ project.  
He gives a quick look at Mairon, knowing that his assistant would understand the meaning. 

Mairon has stood quietly the whole time, contemplating mostly Melkor’s face. And, when Melkor gave him a quick, unnoticed look, he got a shiver down the spine perceiving the reversal, the change in Melkor’s strategy: in that moment his boss is like a sun, a black sun, and everything revolves around him; he will influence Manwë ‘s world, methods, programs and aspirations exactly as he did in the past. 

“I could not choose between my father and my brother and you should understand that simple fact!”, explains Manwë, breaking the silence, “I prayed you to be reasonable but…well, you are _exactly_ like him. You have the same temperament of our father, for that reason you two have spent the whole of your life fighting”. 

“I’ve fought also for you but…you dropped out keeping your false and sly and ostensible tranquillity”, attacks Melkor, again, working on Manwë’s sense of guilt, “You didn’t care about our self-respect and still you don’t” 

“You speak like it was easy for me but it was not. The difference between you and me is that I still love our father”, Manwë says as he place his right hand on his heart. 

“I just loved our father and more than you. I loved him too much and I cannot forgive him for what he did to us”, says Melkor pained, “No father must have loved his children on average or half-heartedly or by no means. And”, he pauses a little, “If you can forgive him, do it also for me because I can’t” 

“You really should, my brother”, Manwë says, “You have your life…is it not enough? Your career, that you have created and built from nothing. Your passions. And your…loved ones. Only few information I could get about you from the press. I don’t know anything else since 4 years” 

“My life is what I’ve built for me and without the help of no one. And no, I can’t. Simply I can’t forgive _him_ ”, a little break then Melkor adds with a lower tone of voice: “ _Not even you_ ”, deepening the grab on Manwë’s unconscious psychological mechanism. 

As answer, Manwë lowers his eyes for some seconds for he can’t hold Melkor’s gaze further. Then: 

“Well, forgive is a big word but I’m trying to learn how to do it. Please, remember that our father ruined my life too. I see him for what he’s and I feel…pity but I cannot be angry, not anymore. But me…I’m your brother and you know how much I care” 

“As far as I know, we are in this situation because of you and…just think about this”, Melkor’s voice is deep and calm but with choleric tone in it, “Probably we would not be at that point if you were by my side: _you_ asked for it and _I_ pay the consequences for your cowardice” 

His words made Manwë even more sad and scared by the idea of losing again the brother. And Melkor has always felt his fear and he knows how to use it, how to eat it, how to turn him to do what he wants. 

“I don’t know who is more pathetic, if _you_ or our father”, Melkor’s eyes sparkle in a hint of sadistic pleasure. 

“I’m sorry, my brother, I could not image to cause you a so big pain: really I didn’t and I ask you pardon for what I’ve done. But I’m with you, now and always” 

“Brother”, says Melkor with smooth voice, placing his hand on Manwë’s arm, “I know you’re still under his influence and pressure but I think you’re finding your balance, finally” 

And Mairon perceives another change in the strategy: Melkor is simply diabolical and he attends his game in wonderment. Manwë smiles grabbing at his hand in what is felt as an altruistic act of affection. 

“Are you happy, brother?”, asks Melkor. 

“If you don’t leave me again, I will feel complete”, answer Manwë. 

“Well”, Melkor adds, “I only want to know you are free in your will for you weren’t during your life” 

“You will help me, as we did in the past, when we were young” 

“I will”, replies Melkor with a smirk.  
After all, what’s Manwë asking for? A call and a lunch every now and then. 

At that point, around an illusory idyllic brotherly life, Mairon plays his cards because a business partnership can safely hide or even put aside any kind of pride.  
He takes Melkor’s planner in the hands and he starts with his game: “So I’m setting an appointment for the both of you next Tuesday”, writing down something very quickly, “I would keep the lunch time and even the place if it fits to you both. And, Mr. Súlimo, I’m going to send you a reminder for that, via email so you can save it directly on your mobile planner” 

“Effective!”, replies Manwë, who almost forgot Mairon’s presence at the table but happy for the idea to have another chance with his brother. 

“As I said yesterday”, Mairon goes ahead, “I personally planned this meeting to deal you and your company in a profitable business” 

“Sure, I’m listening”, Manwë says with real curiosity. 

“To successfully complete a project, I would propose you to invest money and be warrantor with a profit sharing”, Mairon pauses a while, “After all, you’re in family”, then he smiles. 

“As warrantor”, Manwë comments, “It’s a nice word to say I’m not a decider, isn’t it?” 

“As the project is completed in every part of it. Of course we will operate by consensus: shared assumptions, common interests, open conversations, honesty and loyalty” 

“Why me and why now?” 

“Our studio has the ambition - or presumption - to change some rules in architectonical investment. We search for investor or… sponsor, if you prefer this word as manager of the biggest airline company of the land” 

“Actually I was trying to reinvest into a different business”, Manwë smiles turning the head to Melkor, “and the building up of a city could develop new solutions also in my personal field of work. Basically I would invest in my own future” 

Mairon smirks as his plan happened exactly like he plotted out. 

“I know it will be a good long term investments as, with you, Melkor, there’s that little thing called profit and”, Manwë continues, “As the fact regards your project, this is the value-add that drives the investment in it – the ability to produce a product that will be differentiated by the quality of its conception and execution and attract a premium price and value. Moreover, as business men as we are, I cannot image a better way to get back in touch”. 

 

***Evening, in the tube 

 

Melkor has avoided to speak with him the whole afternoon.  
What makes him the angriest is that his assistant has him by the fiscal balls. 

Mairon expected that predictable reaction as the only words he got were “You’re going to pay for this”. So he left him with his thoughts, giving him some hours of peaceful work to cool off. 

As they steps in the tube’s car, Mairon embraces him tightly, breathing in his scent in spite of the glacial way Melkor is keeping: he not even respond to the hug. 

“So, you were right”, says Mairon giving a little peck on his nose, “Together we are perfect. And diabolical”. 

Melkor simply lifts his face by his chin to look at him but he doesn’t speak. He’s too angry yet, as his eyes are narrowed, rigid, cold, hard. Mairon thinks he’s even more attractive with all that rage filling him; it seems he could feel the anger rising up in his stomach, moving to his throat and then to his head, ready to explode in his eyes. And Mairon has to kiss him, and everything inside him, that maelstrom of fury, wanting to feel it on his lips, electrifying like nothing else. He knots his fists in his soft coat, pulling Melkor harder against him. And the architect groans softly, low in his throat, and then his arms circles him, finally, gathering Mairon against him. 

“Diabolical”, Mairon whispers again before assaulting him again. They are kissing like fools. Like their lives depend on it. Mairon’s tongue slips inside his mouth, gentle but demanding, as the fingers grip his hair, pulling him closer. Melkor’s veins throb with both, lust and anger: he has never wanted anyone like Mairon before. Ever. 

“Perfect”, Mairon whispers again, pushing him backward until Melkor’s back in against the car’s metal wall. The heat of Melkor’s body is extraordinary, as Mairon feels him pressed against him, and he sinks into his erotic scent: he breathes him, licks him, eats him, drinks him. 

“Mine”, Mairon murmurs then, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and fondling it gently with his tongue, as Melkor uses to do with him. Releasing his lip from his vortex he teases Melkor’s mouth, probing hungrily then retreating to tenderly licking it. Melkor can feel his lips becoming swollen from his uninterrupted teasing and biting as well as his own arousal. 

“I gave my word to save your ass, when your brother called once”, Mairon explains breaking abruptly their kisses, “And my word is my word, just like your signature” 

“You, little and cruel bastard”, comments Melkor. 

“By the way”, Mairon says, his hand slipping into his coat, grabbing at his balls and squeezing them lightly. Melkor gasps but doesn’t linger passively, for he slides his hand into his coppery, loose hair and balls it into fist, exactly in the middle of his head, where the younger man can feel hundred needles in his scalp. 

But Mairon doesn’t give in: “If you only think to do something like that to me”, he continues adding more stimulant pressure at the tight grasp, “I swear I burn you down. And you know that’s true as I’m the only one who cope with you”

Melkor doesn’t reply, he grinds his teeth in silent fury. 

“Now drop the melodrama”, loosening the grip, “That was not that bad and now you feel better, don’t you?”, asks Mairon, “With a planned investment that’s going to be the best deal in the architectonical financial history”, overstating with purpose, “And Angband, your city, will be even more bigger”. 

 

***Friday 

“Just relax, Mr. Bauglir”, smirks Mairon, sipping at his black coffee sitting in front of him, “I’m only doing what you asked for”, as Melkor has not reached for his cup yet. 

Melkor was still a bit pissed off that morning, but that fact got no influence on the decision to take his car instead of the tube. 

“Well, Mr. Insolence”, starts Melkor, sipping his double strong coffee, “Firstly I need you to update my planner as you’re coming to stay with me the whole week-end, and secondly, on Sunday we start working on Angband’s urban planning” 

“I cannot stay with you the whole week-end, and I think, it’s more than obvious why” 

“Tevildo stays with us, obviously” 

“I’m not going to pay for your luxury furniture working here my entire life for free”, Mairon looks at him incredulous, “I’ve better plan for my career” 

“Don’t trust in career”, Melkor comments, “Look at me now: I’ve ended up feeding a viper” 

Mairon laughs wholeheartedly. Melkor is becoming both amusing and accustomed to his insolence. 

“I’m here with the car so I drive you home”, Melkor sips again the coffee, admiring and loving the younger man’s laugh, “You take what you need and then we go”.  
Apparently Melkor is not giving him a second option. 

“You know it will be like a move? A move with a frightened cat?” 

“No hurry” 

“I don’t have any cat carrier ‘cause I’ve held him in the arms when we were at the vet” 

“We could drive to the mall and buy one during the lunch break” 

That’s impressive, thinks Mairon. Melkor is not exactly the man who enjoys going shopping. 

“The reason why I’ve not bought it yet is that: I simply don’t want a cat carrier and I’m not going to buy it” 

“Why?”, Melkor growls. 

“I’m not sure you will understand” 

“Go on”, Melkor says while he feels his patience slipping away little by little. 

“He’s used to walk with me in my arms and I like it; I know he feels comfortable and it’s a good way to keep our relationship so I don’t want to change that fact as long as he’s young or until it becomes necessary”, Mairon explains with a quite tone of voice. 

Another one Mairon’s weird things, Melkor concludes silently. 

“The point is that”, Mairon goes on with his speech, “He has never been in a car, your car is cool but not big and…what if he…pees in your sports car?” 

Melkor represses the urge to swear with a joke: “This would be a good excuse to change it. I’m getting bored of it” 

“You are absurd, Mr. Bauglir”, Mairon says with puzzled face, taking another sip from the coffee. 

And in truth he would not have expected him to become obliging; for now it’s evident that Melkor can’t stand to spend his days without him: he wants to stay with him at all costs and, perhaps, he need to build their cosiness between the walls of his own home.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from destiny to love❤

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are: Melkor's vision of the presence.  
> Have a nice Easter with Mairon and Melkor's week-end  
> But...is it too much smut in this chapter? Oops, I think so :(

***The same Friday, about 9 p.m. 

 

The little Tevildo is still clawing the nails into Mairon’s chest while they step in Melkor’s home. 

“I could park my whole apartment three or four times in your attic”, says amazed Mairon. 

“Even six”, Melkor confirms, “If we count the second floor”. 

The elegant and startling 4,448 sq. ft. 2-level attic is, contrary to Mairon’s expectation, completely light.The high ceilings and a sophisticated modern interior give, at once, warm and luxurious sensation while the floor-to-ceiling sliding doors and a spacious sunken living area give a massiveness perception; in general the house offers an extremely refined and essential feeling as also the furniture are not so many in number. An open space follows the entrance as the sunken living room welcomes Mairon.The whole right side of the first floor is entirely glass wall, catching and giving back all the luminescence from outside during the day and heavy curtains shade the invasive reflections for Melkor’s eyes suffer the intensity of the sunny days. On the left side of the living room the dinner room with an antique dark wood table with four chairs catches Mairon’s attention; the contrast between the modern interior and the table is strong but it’s perfectly integrated. Mairon needs to feel it under his fingertips: the wood is raw, rough to the touch and steeply sensual. Melkor smiles, observing his interest for the quality of the wood: that was exactly what made him buying that table instead of another one. Behind the dinner room, Mairon steps in the kitchen, which is, as he can see, full-service, very modern and yet tasteful. 

The only parts that are isolated from the open zone with actual doors are a not so small laundry room near the kitchen and Melkor’s dark home office, on the opposite side, on the back of the living room. There are no decors in the house, except for some design pieces made by Melkor himself as one particular chair in his studio and some glass vases in the living room. Even the main supporting pylon in the middle of the first floor is a perfect union between design and use: a round fireplace in clear steatite that brings the dry hot air in the whole house. A stylish stair framed between two glass walls leads to the second floor, composed by a corridor with a huge window, two accesses to his ensuite bedroom and a wall wardrobe as long as the corridor. Melkor’s room is exactly like him: eccentric but with style, simple but not easy, with almost dark but luminous colours. And the scent. His seductive scent to soothe the senses: deep, velvety, black, intoxicating. Mairon shivers thinking of making love to him there, in that sumptuously massive and linear bed with its charcoal grey sheets; it’s placed exactly in the middle of the room, leaning against a modern wardrobe equipped with many useful areas.  
The bathroom are three rooms joint together, separated by glass sliding doors: one room for the double sink that stands in the middle of the bathroom on the right and the shower room - the biggest of them - on the left. 

Tevildo flails all the time of the tour: everything is so big, explorable and so deliciously ‘clawlable’ inside the house that Mairon regretted to be there with a cat in his arms in the exact moment in which he stepped in it. 

“It’s amazing”, comments Mairon while Tevildo protests with whiny meows.

“I tell you, in general I think it’s easier to build a grand opera or even a city center than to build a personal house”, Melkor explains, “And, in truth, it was even more difficult to design my own house” 

“How many time did it take?”, Mairon asks with curiosity, changing position to a vivacious Tevildo who is now climbing up towards his shoulder. 

“Almost eight months  as I changed details many times, not for the general structure that was exactly like this but just to find the perfect location for the rooms”, Melkor explains, “I’ve studied the light in different moments of the day and seasons, the position, what happens with different weather conditions and so on. And still I’m planning something special for the roof” 

“It’s perfect and it tells a lot of you. What a pity I could not include and study it with my thesis”, Mairon says, then he adds in a whisper: “your fault”. 

Melkor has asked himself more than once if and how their story would have developed if they had met in other circumstances like, for example, simply answering the call he got some months before. His thoughts interrupted by another Tevildo’s loud protest. 

“Put him down”, says Melkor eventually, feeling pity both for the cat and Mairon’s scratched arms. 

“Seriously”, Melkor repeats as they reach again the first floor, “Put him down, let him live the house. Or you thought to keep him in the arms for three days?”. 

And while Tevildo happily explores the first floor, Melkor envelops Mairon in his arms, kissing him with his tempting lips while the left hand grabs his waist and the other hand sneaks onto his neck. He pulls him closer, so his lips can’t escape from the hunger he’s feeling. 

“I don’t know what’s in your mind now”, starts Melkor as he captures again his lips but just for a second before moving to his ear. And Mairon’ seducing moans makes Melkor go even wilder, “but now I only want you in my bed”. 

“I can’t leave Tevildo here alone” 

“We both now that he’s going to follow you” 

And Melkor hoists Mairon up and carries him to the bed, up for the stairs as the younger man tightens his grab around his neck with the arms and around his waist with the legs. 

“Don’t drop me”, Mairon says, kissing and biting lightly his side neck. 

“No, it will be not so easy to get rid of me”, Melkor replies, climbing the stairs, “You’re going to pay back the whole week-end for what you’ve done yesterday” 

“Oh that’s right”, giggles Mairon, “I was about to forget it” 

“I’m here to be sure you’ll remember it for a long time”, as he puts him down into the luxurious bed, placing his body on the top of him. 

Mairon buries his face into his neck, breathing deeply, while Melkor’s hands work as fast as possible to unbutton the shirt of his own suit. And Melkor’s breath gets heavier while Mairon sucks the soft skin of his earlobe, whispering in his ear “I want you inside me” before nibbling on it, as the hands travel on his strong back, already naked.  
Then Melkor’s hands work to Mairon’s shirt, unbuttoning it slowly, knowing how he enjoys the slow foreplay, watching him intensely in his eyes, smirking at their meaningful glances.

And Mairon squeaks as Melkor attacks his nipples once the shirt is thrown away, fondling one tracing the outside of his areola with the finger, brushing his tip as he completes full circles and sucking the other one, licking around it, then zeroing in on the tip by flicking the tongue back and forth, finishing up with a gentle bite. And Mairon pleads for more, moaning in the most sensual way Melkor has ever heard: whatever Mairon does, it wildly turns Melkor on. He gives a look at him, so beautifully lost in pleasure with eyes shut, asking for a more rougher play. And he’s proud of his squeaks, so proud of making him aroused with his attentions. So he nips him a bit harder, tweaking the tip between the thumb and forefinger, finishing with a strong tug on the black piercing, while the teeth scrapes light the other one before sucking it hard. Mairon arches his back, feeling the sensation on hundred needle in his groin, that pushes him over the edge. 

“I’m going to make you feel heavenly good”, Mairon moans, cupping Melkor’s face and asking for a deep kiss. 

And Melkor grunts for his words and pleases him, moving the attention from his nipples to his lips. They are both avid of kisses that are never enough to satisfy their need of them. 

And Mairon presses into him with his entire mouth, tasting, teasing, stroking, and sucking gently with lips and tongue; then he trails hot kisses along his neck traveling slowly down, on his expanded chest before flipping their position, before sucking his belly-button – thing that makes Melkor smile – and before placing himself in the middle of his thighs.  
Mairon wants that perfect cock rock-hard for their pleasure, so he slowly licks the underside of it, already half-hard, insisting on the thick nerve, caressing it up and down. 

Melkor loves when he stimulates that spot and a deep guttural groan doesn’t take so much time to come, along too the hand on the top of Mairon’s head. Feeling the strong hand asking for it, Mairon engulfs the whole cock in one simple gulp, bobbing the head up and down slowly but enthusiastically as Melkor shoves and forces his cock down Mairon’s throat, deeply.

And Mairon seductively looks up, showing him his watering eyes for few second before tightening the grip with his throat around the huge cock, savouring the moment fully. 

“Where’s the lube?”, asks Mairon pulling back, releasing the wet cock from his mouth. 

Using both hands, Mairon coats with the fluid the length, the hands twisting around it, enjoying with anticipation what’s going to happen. Melkor tries to move his body, with the intention of changing their position but Mairon smirks: 

“Down, don’t move”, he commands, “It will be perfect like so”, positioning himself over Melkor, on his knees, giving his back to the man. 

And before Melkor can say anything, Mairon drops himself onto the majestic cock, gasping silently as he feels it making its way through his body, gradually. Deliciously slow is Mairon, taking his time to enjoy the sensation, tilting back the head and moaning in pleasure. 

And Melkor grabs his perfect buttocks, spreading lightly his cheeks, admiring the view of the cock burying inside him little by little. Feeling their balls in contact, Mairon adjusts his body around the fullness and, stretching the legs, one by one, he sits completely on Melkor’s cock. 

Melkor immediately starts to pound on him but Mairon stops him: “Wait!”, half moaned and half growled, giving a little hit on the inner part of his thigh. 

“Fuck”, growls Melkor, giving one more trust into the younger man, as he just can’t wait any longer to have him. 

“Your hands”, asks Mairon, grabbing at them, intertwining sweetly their fingers. And, with his hands as support, Mairon leans back, lying down on Melkor’s hot body. 

“Mairon”, Melkor moans, as the moment is beyond the perfection, with the younger man in his arms and his cock deep inside him. And he guides their hands over Mairon’s chest, to reach his nipples, pressing Mairon’s fingers to pinch his own nipples. 

And with that sweet torment, the younger man starts to rock his waist forth and back, asking to Melkor for his powerful thrusts, instantly resumed with a regular pace.  
When Melkor obliges him to pull on the piercing hardly, Mairon squeaks and arches his back a little, while one of Melkor’s hand closes around his shaft, starting to pump it with the same speed of the thrusts. 

“Blissful”, Mairon cries louder, lowering his body, trusting against him, powerless to even consider speaking further, all control gone in the exact moment in which he explodes on his own belly, as Melkor mercilessly pounds away harder urging him on, the passion and desire mounting until also he comes warmly, growling and filling him with his seed. 

Melkor allows himself some seconds to breath deeply and to calm his heartbeats down a little before crinkling around Mairon and wrapping him possessively in his arms, minding to not slide the cock outside his body, not so early, not so soon. And Melkor’s lips reach his cheek, asking for a kiss. 

Feeling his hug and his hot mouth, Mairon turns the head to kiss him passionately, thinking about the previous Saturday, when they spent one beautiful half hour only kissing each other after their voluptuous intercourse. Mairon stays as he is and Melkor kisses him, tracing his lips with his tongue before pressing slowly into his mouth. Then Mairon returns his kiss, pushing his tongue aside to explore thoroughly his mouth before pulling back a bit to nibble at his lower, full and soft lip. 

*** Saturday 

When Mairon wakes up he’s alone in the bed; the silence and the almost total absence of light in the room make him wanting to turn on the other side and fall asleep again: the mattress is incredibly cosy, the temperature in the room is perfect and the sheet’s velvet scent is dreamlike.  
But he turns the head to check the time: it’s 12:43 p.m. and Mairon realises he has overslept. 

Melkor woke up around 8:30; Mairon was sleeping and he did his best to try to not wake up the younger man, but Tevildo was not worry about things.  
The little cat spent the night curled up in an open nook inside Melkor’s wardrobe, behind the bed, where Melkor kindly put a pillow to make it more snug. But the view of Melkor, who was getting out the bed, made him very cheerful; so, firstly he stretched out lazily, then he climbed down from the nook, meowing loudly and, finally, he glided on Mairon’s pillow, making him wake up suddenly. 

“Sleep a bit more, I need to work”, Melkor said, caressing his hair, “I take the little pest with me” 

“Only five minutes”, Mairon promised with a wonderful sleepy voice, very glad to be allowed to sleep a little longer, “If he disturbs you, bring him here”. Then Mairon felt asleep in less than three minutes. 

The house is immersed in the silence as the first floor seems empty, not even Tevildo is in sight. The heavy curtains are not shielding the living room from the light that seeps in through the glass wall; together with the soft tone of the warm parquet, everything seems immersed in a soft dim radiance.  
Mairon stares at the effect for some seconds tilting the head on the side: in a way he has not yet figured out, Melkor is obsessed with the light. 

Then he reaches the kitchen to fill two cups with the coffee and walks towards Melkor’s office, sure to find him there.  
Melkor smiles when the younger man steps in his home office with two cups of coffee. The view of him makes all his nerves in the groin active: Mairon is still wearing the only thing he uses to sleep - tee and underpants – and his coppery hair is loose. 

“Good afternoon! You bring coffee with you? It’s lunch time”, Melkor says. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t realise I’d overslept” 

Mairon smiles to Tevildo, “Hey you! There you are!”, receiving back two lovely meows. 

“Your bed is too cosy”, he adds, speaking to Melkor, placing the cups on the desk to free both the hands. 

“Good”, smiles Melkor at the view of Mairon with Tevildo in his arms. 

The younger man buries his nose in his belly, loving the soft and scented fur: even his fur now smells of Melkor’s skin. Then he gives him tiny kisses and the little cat answers back with a flow of warm and vibrating purrs. 

“Did he disturbed you?” 

“Not at all”, Melkor replies sipping the coffee, “I gave him some attentions before starting to work and it worked as he has been quite until now” 

“Really?” 

“I think there’s a good feeling between us” 

Mairon smiles, holding Tevildo in his arms and keeping with cuddling him. And Melkor approaches him with a smirk painted on his lips. 

“Why don’t we have a shower together?”, hugging Mairon from behind and giving a little stroke on Tevildo’s head. 

“It’s two week you can’t think about anything else, isn’t it? I suspect I’m here only for that reason” 

“Listen, the perfect relaxing plan: now coffee together, then a shower together and after I make a sophisticated dinner for us” 

“Not that bad”, Mairon smugly says, hiding his strong emotions toward the plan. 

* 

The shower room is nothing less than an enclosed steam room made of dark stone and wood; on the left side a fog-free mirror - that covers the whole wall - makes the impact a bit unusual, and Mairon thinks that one should have a strong esteem towards himself to put up with it. 

“Water temperature?” 

“Oh”, replies Mairon, “I like it extremely hot”. 

The bare feet in contact with the cold stone floor makes the situation a bit uncomfortable, for that reason Mairon hugs himself. 

“Don’t worry”, says Melkor observing him, “The water heats up quickly and this particular kind of stone keeps the hot temperature in a very good way” 

“You have also the steam bath?”, asks Mairon, glancing at one of the two nice graded loungers made of stone, the two heads integrated into the roof and the steam head. 

“You want to try it?” 

“Yes! But maybe later”, smiles Mairon, embracing Melkor from behind. 

“Cromotherapy?” 

“Oh, please, no”, Mairon replies, kissing the skin of his back.

“Blue gives a nice effect” 

“Ok, why not”, Mairon says, “and of course you can listen to music here” 

“Obviously”, says Melkor, showing him a module perfectly hidden in the stone, “But not now: I only want your sweet moans, that’s the best music to me”, Melkor says turning himself and pulling Mairon to him to kiss him. 

Quickly the water has warmed up so Melkor puts his glorious naked body under the running water, bringing with him Mairon, without break their contact. They kiss as they run their hands all over one another’s bodies under the steamy spray of the shower head. 

“Let me bathe you”, says Mairon, desiring his first shower with him as sweet as possible.

Soaping his hands up with a soft foam, the younger man starts from the face, looking him in his eyes, massaging the lather from his chin to his neck, carefully caressing the skin. Then washing and rinsing him, using the shower nuzzle. 

Melkor finds the moment ridiculously funny and he laughs under his breath; but Mairon is so serious and focused that he feels the impulse to lift gently his chin, to look into his eyes and, silently, to tell him all that Mairon needs to know about the sensations and the feelings he’s feeling towards him. When Mairon’s hands travel around his chest, for some seconds he rests one hand on it, heart high, so that thoughts, feelings and beats are collected together. 

“I can’t wait to wash you in turn”, says Melkor. 

“No hurry, wait for your turn”, smiles Mairon, making him turn around to wash his back. 

Soaping up his hands again, Mairon gently soaps and rinses his entire body, shoulders to toes, lingering just a bit on his favourite spots: his strong back and his inner thighs. Then Mairon starts kissing his wet back while his hand massage his buttocks, cupping them in the palms, swirling the foamy lather on his strong ass.  
Then he works his way lower and the architect instinctively spreads his legs and groans, leaning forward with his palms against the stony shower wall. 

“Mmmh”, moans Melkor, while the hot water runs on his front side, feeling the rain pressure on his chest and, at the same time, Mairon’s long fingers exploring his ass without forgetting to focus his sweet attention on his balls and at the base of his cock. 

And Mairon smiles as he detaches the shower nozzle and bring it down beneath his ass; then he knees down and gazes up at the wonderful sight of his half-erect cock, those delectable balls and that tight ass.  
And, after changing the setting to rain/mist spray, less light but more tantalising, he aims the soft jet to rinse the soap and arouse him. 

Melkor groans in pleasure, feeling the needles stimulation on his testicles and, then, immediately after, the jets teases the underside of his cock. And his body reacts by quickly coming to full-shaft groaning again at the superb sensation. 

And Mairon places two soft full-lip kisses to his balls, admiring his strong thighs tensing all of a sudden for the unexpected touch. 

“Turn yourself”, whispers Mairon, inverting the water stream that, now, caresses Melkor’s body once again, “I think you will enjoy the view”. 

And Melkor does, as now he can see reflected his strong body and the back of a wonderful knelt Mairon. And he can’t keep to growl from his throat when the younger man bends over a bit more, exposing his perfect ass to give him a complete sight of it. 

Mairon takes the cock in the left hand and begins stroking it: 

“Come hard and cover my face”. 

And Melkor smirks as the younger man opens his mouth and moves towards him. He can feel his hot breath on his wet shaft as he slowly takes the head into his mouth. Melkor’s eyes rolls back and his head tilts back when he feels the lips wraps around his cock. 

Mairon starts slowly sucking the first few centimetres into his mouth while stroking the rest of his cock, moaning for he loves to suck Melkor’s huge cock. Then he lowers his head and begins licking the balls while the hand is slowly stroking the whole length.  

Melkor moans, switching the gaze between himself and the red haired man’s ass; but it doesn’t take long for him to focus definitively on the younger man: the best view is Mairon’s face expression while he enjoys with passion the blowjob he’s giving. 

Mairon licks his balls for a few minutes before taking his cock back in his mouth. He deepthroats him down until his chin touches his heavy sack, moaning several times using one hand to caress and squeeze his balls at the same times. 

“Mairon”, Melkor groans,  feeling his throat tightening around his cock, “I’m coming” 

And Mairon pulls his cock out of his mouth to look up into his eyes. 

“Cover me”, he pleads, continuing with firm strokes with the hand. 

Melkor groans as the pressure in his balls gives way and an abundant stream of seed erupts over Mairon’s face. 

The younger man doesn’t stop with the hand but he closes his eyes to enjoy the hot flow. Finally he releases his grip on the cock and with one flick of his hungry tongue over the tip he swallows the last dripping drop.  
Then he sits back on his heels looking up at him, so filthy and blissfully stained. The look of pure lust in his eyes says more than any words. 

“My naughty Mairon”, Melkor joins him to clean his face up, before kissing him madly. Then he embraces him, driving him on the top of his body. So they end on the floor, Melkor feeling the hot water under him and Mairon immersed in the hot stream falling from high. 

Now the red haired man is between his legs, riding him. He positions the head of his already hard cock at his opening and slowly works it in him.  
Melkor closes his eyes, breathing fast with anticipation, his shaft starting to answer again to the stimulation inside his body, for all of his nerves perceive Mairon’s electrifying penetration. And it’s a surprise for him when Mairon, with one slow, continuous and aimed motion, thrusts the entire length of his cock into him.  
He growls but he doesn’t try to limit that quite but uninterrupted entry, on the contrary Melkor grabs at Mairon’s ass and furthers him even more harder inside: nothing is too much for the lust he feels for him. 

Mairon stands inside him only when his balls sense his buttocks; he stops for some seconds, to bend over and kiss him sweetly; then, with sensual and rhythmic movements, he begins to fuck Melkor using his full length to ensure the perfect stimulation for the both of them. 

And Melkor moves his hands to reach and play with his precious spots: the piercings so slippery under the running water, the nipples so tense under his fingertips and his moans so naughty for that treatment. And he whispers “Mine” before turning Mairon’s sweet kiss into a deep, demanding and needy one. 

And once again Mairon totally feels in his possession, his lips devoured and his soul taken as the first spasm, the approaching of his orgasm, cracks his body violently. So he moves faster in and out of him, thrusting with more force, slapping his balls against the man with that absolutely filthy noise. 

That’s enough for Melkor to press Mairon’s body against his with more intensity, without releasing his lips from the voracious kiss. And between pleasure and need Melkor comes, feeling his own surging cum on his stomach and the heat of Mairon’s one inside him.  
Even if Melkor came, his throbbing cock doesn’t go soft. 

Mairon keeps shooting with every single thrust and they finish almost at the same time. He would collapse on his body, breathing heavily, feeling their hearts hammering in their chest but he simply can’t for Melkor doesn’t break the kiss, on contrary he tightens the hug lifting him in such a way that his cock slips out of his body. 

“More”, Melkor whispers against his lips, “I want you”, before covering them again. 

Melkor turns their body, without stopping with kisses: now it’s Mairon who’s lying in the few centimetre of water on the stone floor. He starts kissing him all over his lips, and his face around his ears, and down his neck. He lightly runs his tongue down his neck, kissing here and there in a chaotic and uncontrollable way. 

And Mairon smiles with lust with a feeling of power racing through his veins, as if he’s the only one in the world who can grant him his inner satisfaction, something so precious and rare; and Melkor grabs gently but firmly his hips to let him turn and lie on his belly, caressing his back until he reaches his perfect butt.  
He feels when the length of Melkor’s cock pushes into his ass’ soft cheeks, and he sees reflected in the mirror how his strong hands are holding and pressing his buttocks on the two sides to envelop his huge shaft in the best way. 

It feel perfect and Melkor would stay there forever only watching his cock in the middle of his buttocks, but he can’t stop the desire that took him; he fucks those perfect and pale cheeks thrusting hard, growling and coming for the third time, finding his relief on Mairon’s back, exactly in the middle of his butt dimples. 

Then Mairon feels Melkor’s body collapsing on him, his heavy breath against his wet skin, his lips kissing lightly his shoulders, his arms wrapping him from behind. 

* 

Tevildo tormented most of the day the lower wood frame of one window in the living room and the connected heavy curtain; Melkor gave only two or three dirty looks at the little cat but surprisingly he didn’t comment on it, and, if he was pissed off, he did his best to not show it to Mairon.  
After many hours of carful claws-job, Tevildo has found his natural place in the middle of the stair, easily lying on his belly on a step, overlooking the entire living room and giving no confidence to anyone, Mairon included. Probably, in Tevildo’s mind, that one was a powerful key point; moreover, Mairon’s apartment has no stairs. Well, better on the stairs than near the wood windows, thinks Mairon with a sigh of relief.  
But when the unmistakable sound of something unwrapped reaches the little cat’s ears and, with that, the smell of smoked salmon hits his hypersensitive nose, he immediately stands up and funnily runs towards the huge kitchen, revealing his presence to Melkor who, at that very moment, is smelling of fish. 

“No, please”, comments Mairon. 

“Oh shut up”, replies Melkor, giving him a little salmon strip. 

“That’s enough”, Mairon says, “Going to boil one egg for him” 

“Take the sea urchins out from the fridge, it’s time to arrange risotto”

“And I naïvely made salty crepes for you!” 

“They actually were very good, probably the best I’ve ever eaten” 

“Oh”, says Mairon without false modesty, “I have my secrets” 

“And the black smoked caviar from the fridge, also” 

“Black caviar”, Mairon whispers, doing a quick evaluation about the risotto Melkor is cooking, “pardon my cheesy question but…exactly where you add the 24 ct gold powder?” 

“On the top of the black caviar” 

“Right”, comments Mairon: in that moment the idea of luxury food has a new meaning. 

“Please, take champagne from the living room’s fridge”, Melkor adds, “totally forgot about it” 

“Yes, _master_ ”, comments sarcastically Mairon. 

“It suits to me”, Melkor confirms. 

“Of course, Mr. Narcissist”, placing the bottle on the bench, “seriously, what would you do without me?”, jokes Mairon. 

Melkor doesn’t comment, thinking that’s exactly how things are running in his life since five weeks. His silence is clear also to Mairon, who smirks keeping his eyes upon him. 

“So”, Melkor follows the path Mairon has just taken, “what you don’t like? I think it’s important to know it at this point”. 

“Well”, thinks Mairon, crossing his arms on the chest, “I would try everything if it inspires me so I cannot say if there’s something I don’t like properly” 

“That’s a nice game”, says Melkor. 

Mairon watches him with puzzled face. 

“To guess what you like”, Melkor explains. 

“Oh” 

“You like fish” 

“Mmm”, nods Mairon. 

“You like steaks rare, almost raw”, continues Melkor, “like me” 

“Good memory” 

“Mint ice-cream” 

“True”, says Mairon in surprise, “how you got this?” 

“Just imagined”, Melkor smirks, “and you like cats” 

“Easy” 

“You don’t like to sleep alone” 

“Easy again” 

“You like to stay at home” 

“Will you use your volcanic mind, Mr. Bauglir, or you’ll only do copy-paste?” 

“Let me do my game”, says Melkor approaching him. 

Mairon smirks. 

“You like my scent because you think it’s erotic and wild” 

“True” 

“I think you are into white wine” 

Mairon doesn’t answer but keeps smiling, while Melkor wraps him, circling his arm around his waist. 

“Yes, you like best white wine” 

“True”, Mairon answers circling his body back. 

“You like dark ambient music”, Melkor says, brushing his lips against his. 

“Observant”, plays Mairon, giving a glance to his t-shirt. 

“You like when I cook for you”, Melkor says as he brushes his body against Mairon’s. 

“True” 

“As well as you like slow sex” 

“Oh, very sharp you are” 

“Because you like attentions on you” 

“Who doesn’t?” 

“Right”, pauses Melkor, giving a little peck to him, “but now I know why” 

“So?”, sensually sucking his bottom lip. 

“You perceive your past as conventional and also you think you got a conventional relationship” 

Mairon’s face changes immediately from smiling to serious. And Melkor cups his face, to be sure to be understood: 

“I don’t mean to criticise your past, Mairon, as I don’t think at all that you are a conventional person; but I just want to take it as a matter of fact: with conventional I mean it was adapted to the moral standards and prevailing rules and you’ve felt in absence of alternatives most of your life”, giving a peck on his cheek. 

“Pressed by the strict rules that your parents have taught you, following a path already said, already spoken, or doing things just because someone told you that those were the right things to do, asking yourself all the time where and how to find the real Mairon between perfection and self-denial”.  
Melkor kisses his nose with incredible tenderness, loving Mairon’s expression so immersed and enraptured by his words. 

“The freedom of being yourself without hiding your talents or your light but leaving them as they should be. Not ashamed of who you are, of what you think, of what you feel. With no need of confirmations from others but only your own approval, your satisfaction, your happiness”. 

“And that’s why you’ve chosen me, that why you’ve studied me”, kissing his forehead, “and, while you were studying my works, you found yourself: you’ve found yourself in me because _all the rules of this world mean nothing if you cannot be yourself_ ” 

“You are marvellous”, Mairon says, smiling lightly, in the way Melkor adores, caressing his cheek, “How you got all this?”, then he asks. 

“I’ve read again your thesis this week. The first time I read it, for your job interview, I found myself by your words. But this time, the second time, I’ve searched you in it”, Melkor explains, “Even if you don’t speak so much about yourself, you communicate in other ways as you put a little of your world in everything you do. Exactly like me”. 

Mairon is genuinely speechless, amazed once more by his attentive considerations: Melkor, whom he considered incapable of emotional sharing for several weeks, totally got and gathered him in a more deep and spiritual way.  
And Melkor gives a little peck on his lips before hitting him definitively. 

“That’s why _you love me_ ”, he whispers on his lips, looking into his eyes, “You love the freedom you’ve found in me” 

“True”, he simply says, observing his lips as he speaks those last words. 

“You love how free you feel with me” 

“True” 

“You feel you are yourself with me, for the first time in your life” 

“True” 

“Maybe some worries as it normal between two people in the beginning, but no preconceptions, no walls, no mental blocks, no predefined bonds: only freedom” 

“True”, Mairon says again and now he’s smiling sweetly. 

“And now the second step”, says Melkor cupping his cheeks again, “why _I love you_ ”. 

Mairon silently savours his words before lifting his gaze to look at him in the eyes and he hopes that Melkor can’t feel the furious speed of his heart through the skin.  
As if Melkor could read his thought, he gently grabs him by his throat and lightly presses the fingers on that spot on his neck, where his blood vessel sensually runs; Mairon winces and with the sensation of his heart that pulses under his fingertips, he speaks again: 

“The same reason”, Melkor kisses his lips, “I love my creative freedom in you”.  
Melkor’s head tilts a little just to kiss his beauty mark near the lip. 

“I ground my essence on you and everything finds its place in you. You give me a stable sensation in the swirl of my life, adding also a hint of unpredictable yet comfortable unknown in it”. 

Mairon is not capable of move himself. He simply listens to his own heartbeat, heavily hammering in his chest, he feels his hot lips brushing against his, so sensually, so lightly; he observes the deep of his cold blue-grey eyes and he can’t image the words that follow: 

“If I thought we were a perfect destiny together, now I have no doubts, _my love_ ” 

And Mairon’s mind repeats those two little, beautiful and whispered words, like music.  
The only thing he wants to do is close his eyes and stay there, in that hot hug, forever. So he stands on his tiptoes and buries his face into his neck.  
And Melkor gives a little peck on his coppery hair before lifting him up in his arms. 

“I know how you feel some nights, Mairon”, continues Melkor, carrying him towards the black cough in the sunken living room, “Alone in your bed”, sitting on it with the younger man on his lap. 

“You feel like you are the lord of a place”, cupping again his face in the hands for Melkor feels the urge to protect him, “a place that doesn’t exist anymore at the very first morning light”. 

Mairon breaths out lightly, with one imperceptible sign of suffer; Melkor strokes his thumb over his cheekbone. 

“Mairon”, he whispers softly, “I swear, with me your days and nights will be the same because our states and atmospheres will last eternally, if it’s really what you want, _my love_ ” 

“What I want”, whispers Mairon, caressing his lips “It’s _to be_ with you”.  
Melkor nods and smiles lightly before bending over to kiss him. 

And Tevildo’s intrusion – who tenderly sits on Mairon’s lap, leaning his head against Melkor’s chest, enjoying the heat of their bodies – doesn’t ruin anything; on contrary, the little pest makes the moment even more important to the both of them as, in one single hug, they envelop the most cherished things of their life. 

Feeling Melkor’s hot and amazing lips on his, caressing him tenderly yet possessively, Mairon belongs to him and him only.  
He thinks about the past weeks, when he was worried about Melkor’s narcissism and the ruinous relationship could only have resulted; but, instead, he should have been afraid of his total and enveloping love that made him craving intensely the union with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ❤Thank you for reading❤


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I've nothing against birdwatching.

***Monday, the sixth week 

 

“Now we can start to think about the next step, Mairon” 

“So, planning permission in twenty-two parts”, Mairon answers. And uneasily he stifles a yawn. Melkor glances at him for some seconds before sipping at his coffee. The light red line under Mairon’s lower eyelashes - the sign of his tiredness - gives to the young man an intriguing effect. 

“That’s your task this week”, Melkor states as Mairon writes something down on both his planners, “and I require the design approved for building regulations before the work starts, even if it’s not compulsory to have it, but I want it to be sure there are no problems later” 

“The first concern are design, visual appearance and impact on the surrounding area” 

“The surrounding area is desert” 

“I’ve tried to explain it to Mrs. Kementari supporting a faster process” 

“I want the approval notice as fast as possible” 

“What you mean with ‘fast’ ”, and he quickly adds, “Mr. Bauglir?”, minding to talk with his boss and not with his man. 

“Three weeks” 

“We can expect a decision within seven weeks, or three months with the consent. And”, Mairon continues, “with your project , Mr. Bauglir, it could take even more” 

“We will see” 

“That’s not in our power” 

“We will see”, insists Melkor. 

“We can always try with the retrospective approval”, Mairon jokes, “perhaps people may not notice that one day there’s nothing and the day after a construction site as big as a city” 

“If we keep the same pace we had yesterday, in one month the urban planning will be ready” 

And Mairon yawns openly that time. Melkor glances at him, again. “I need more coffee”, Mairon claims. 

“I see”, the architect comments proudly as he looks away from the computer screen and puts his photochromic eyeglasses on his head, “Fill again mine also: we have this perfect coffee with us”, Melkor’s lips twitches quickly and faintly as Mairon fills his mug with the coffee from the thermos, “you should bring it everyday” 

“I’ve enough things to do in the morning, Mr. Bauglir”, Mairon fills his cup too, “Today it’s an exception” 

“A nice exception”, Melkor smirks and a glimpse of perdition shines in his eyes. 

They got out the bed around six, thing that was decided on Sunday while they were working together, to leave Tevildo at Mairon’s home and be on time to work; but Melkor woke Mairon up one hour before, about five, gently pushing the sheet aside, inhaling his silky scent and feeling the heat radiate from his body on his face. His aimed and sensual kisses let Mairon start Monday morning in a very good way. 

“Tomorrow you have a work lunch with your brother”, Mairon says purposely, trying to dissolve his boss’ obscene smirk and thoughts about their pleasant wake, “I‘m going to send him a reminder via SMS”. 

“For whom you work? Me or him?”, Melkor snaps at him, “anyway, _we have_ \- you mean”, pointing the finger to him. 

Mairon texts on his mobile checking again the planner, then rises his hazel eyes to observe him. His long eyelashes, his serious expression and that little dimple on his left cheek makes Melkor’s nerves even more active. 

“Oh, I would really enjoy your intriguing family reunion but I’ve some unfinished business with the local authority and, coincidentally, I got the appointment exactly at your work lunch as the office closes up at 2 p.m.” 

“Fuck”, Melkor swears, not under his breath: with his brother. Alone. 

“You really don’t need my help or my presence in your brotherly moment” 

“That’s not a matter of help but a matter of boredom: he’s unbearably dull” 

“And I’ll have a quick lunch with one colleague after the meeting with administrators”, Mairon continues. 

Colleague. There is not so much people in his studio. 

“Why?”, Melkor growls. 

“Sorry, Mr. Bauglir, I don’t understand your concern” 

“A lunch with… Gothmog”, replies Melkor with a little pang of resentment pronouncing that name. 

Mairon watches him, so beautiful with that hint of jealousy painted on his face. He would smile with tenderness but that’s not the right moment or the right place. Mairon breaths deeply in, filling his lungs with Melkor’ scent, pulse and needy tension to him, following the bliss for what they feel for each other. 

“It’s normal between colleagues”, Mairon dissimulates the beauty of the moment getting out of the chair, “I’m at my desk, Mr. Bauglir”.

 

*Evening 

Melkor leans and pulls Mairon on the side to assault desperately his mouth, the left hand cupping his cheek to press him even more inside their kiss. But Mairon slows it down, his lips only brushing gently against Melkor’s before pulling back. It’s about twenty minutes they’re in that hug, the seats of the car pushed back to make it even more cosy. 

“Have you ever felt alone?”, Mairon asks while he places the head on his shoulder. 

“Mmm”, Melkor murmurs, keeping with the hair stroking, “I’m too selfish” 

“Going to circle this day with the red pen in your planners with the written ‘confession’ under the date” 

“Why?” 

“That’s an event! But that’s not an answer: what we think and what we feel rarely coincide. Once again, _Melkor_ , have you ever felt alone?” 

Melkor breaths heavy and places the head against the headrest. “I’ve never cared about people and I’ve always considered myself self-sufficient. And I know it now, because I miss you when we are not together and I find myself thinking about you when it happens. And I think of you more than I think of myself”, a little break, “Well, not more, but fifty-fifty”. 

Mairon laughs lightly and tightens in their hug. 

“And you, _Mairon_ , the last time you’ve felt alone?” 

Mairon lifts the face and stares at him. “I don’t know and I don’t think about it anymore”. 

The hot kiss Melkor places on his forehead is the most protective thing he has ever gotten. Mairon closes his eyes feeling those perfect lips on his skin. He’s one step to ask him to spend the night together but he would not sleep and he really need to sleep. 

“I need to sleep, three hours are not enough for me”, then he adds, “And I need my twenty minutes’ walk with Tevildo, it’s our little moment together before sleeping” 

“What if I swear I’ll be good?”

“You good? With your work alcoholism and your sexual hunger? No, I’m not buying it” 

Melkor’s face clouds lightly. “Is it so impossible to stay with me?”, he whispers with a hint of sadness in his eyes. 

Mairon looks at him with both, surprise and tenderness; there it is, his frail side, the one hidden and buried deeply in the pits of his soul, concealed from the world, turned into a mask of disrespect and irreverence towards anyone. 

“No”, Mairon answers, cupping his face with one hand, “there are no simple relationships”, then he adds with a tiny smile, “but some are more intense than others and it happens also that the most challenging are also the most beautiful”. 

“Perfect words”, Melkor whispers. 

“Perfect love”, Mairon replies. 

Leaning over to hug him, Melkor closes his eyes some seconds, staying there forever, breathing his silky scent, before kissing him again, before letting him go, before leaving with the car along the road that drives to the other side of the city.

 

***Tuesday 

Melkor is trapped between two different feelings that impede to enjoy fully the luxury lunch plate with sea food and meat before him: one about his assistant and one about his brother. 

A thrill of pleasure crosses his spine while he’s thinking about the wonderful nights he spent with his love during the week-end. Once again his work got influence on Mairon’s life, that got influence on his own life: the idea of being himself at all costs and whatever it takes - thing that the younger man deduced from his own artistic vision - took again possession of his slumbered-in-anger mind. Observing the whole situation through Mairon’s eyes, it began to question his standpoint about the no-more-relation with his brother. Melkor made a choice, to him a change, and so did his brother: Manwë chose to not change anything. In truth, the mutual influence they have on each other through their relationship raised doubts also about the total mess with his father. His hate, his resentment, his will of revenge is an evident proof that he only thinks he’s free. But he’s not. 

To all this Melkor is pondering, sitting at the restaurant’s table, with his absent-minded eyes lost somewhere on one undefined point behind Manwë’s head; the flowing of his brother’s words are perceived as a far and annoying echo while his brother talks about the family’s house on the Pelóri Mountains, where he uses to spend spring and summer to enjoy his favourite recreational activity since they were young: birdwatching, it’s called. Melkor cannot think to something more boring than it, as even their ‘conversation’ together is more exciting than his hobby. 

Without counting the ten minutes effluvium about his beloved wife; a certain Vorda-or-Varta-or-whatever-her-name-is, with whom he got married more or less four years ago. While Manwë proudly shows him a photo of them - taken during the previous week during one charity party - Melkor thinks silently that she’s a standard nice woman, and, for sure, as boring and dull as his brother. 

Fortunately Manwë is teetotal, as he is not, and the whole bottle of wine is for him. The fifth glass of heavy and full-bodied red wine got no influence on his psychical stability, or on his focus, thing that, on contrary, his brother’s million words did. As a classic in their past life: his brother has always been a loquacious man; but Melkor got the impression, since the beginning of the lunch together, that there’s something more, something that goes beyond the business meeting or the renewed brotherly happiness. Manwë feels a kind of urgency to talk with him about something and those millions words are only a carpet to prepare the field. Not so difficult to image the background of all that. 

Melkor checks his mobile with nervousness; at that point surely Mairon’s morning duties are over and surely he’s somewhere eating in company.  
_Damned doubts_. Melkor not even bother himself to ask pardon for the interruption he may cause to his brother, showing apathy, tipping on his phone, writing something with incredible speed. And, in truth, Manwë not even notices his brother’s occupation as he speaks. One simple, general and candid ‘Everything’s ok?’ that actually is not so candid as he’s ready to count how many seconds Mairon could take to answer the message. So Melkor decides to save the draft and puts the mobile on the table. 

“Always at work”, Manwë comments, seeing the mobile on the table, “like me”, he smiles and puts the hand on his right arm. Again. Melkor detests few things in this world more than his brother’s physical and maniacal need of contact; he silently swears he will break his arm in three points if Manwë touches him again. 

“Well, I’m waiting for an email”, Manwë goes on like nothing interrupted his blatant talk about his life, “for we are having a change in our management but our meeting was more important than anything else” 

“So”, Melkor starts taking the lead of their conversation, thanking some obscure force for the change in discussion with something more interesting, “What do you think about Friday?”, freeing contemptuously the arm from his grasp, taking again the phone in his hand. 

“You mean for the contract?” 

“Of course” 

“So soon?” 

“It‘s a long process: sooner it starts sooner it will be over” 

“Yes, it’s a good day Friday, I think”, Manwë checks his planner also, “but I give you confirm later in the evening. Of course I’m coming with my legal assistant” 

“Of course”, Melkor states. Then, the second steps. 

“Is still your friend…that one who studied with you…working at the Land Registry?” 

“You mean Irmo?” 

“That one” 

“Well we didn’t study together but we shared the room and, yes, he’s my friend and he’s working there” 

“Good”, Melkor says totally disinterested, “Maybe he can help us with the project, you know, just to speed the process with documents” 

“Sure, I will ask him”, Manwë takes a note on his phone, “the bureaucratic era, I have to fight with it for every single process that involves my company” 

At least the two important points of the lunch are set. Now it’s boredom again with detestable questions. 

“But tell me everything, my brother!”, Manwë says in excitement, “I know nothing about your life since…since…your story with the dancer? Lucky man, beautiful woman!”, he gives him a little hit with the elbow, “I’ve read it on the press. You know I’ve always checked and searched info about you, you know how much I care”. Manwë glances at his left hand two seconds: “Are you married?” 

“No”, Melkor replies with disgust, “I have other priorities in my life” 

“You’ve not changed, my brother”, smiles Manwë while he grabs at his arm again with the hand, “fresh unwed single man for the rest of your life”.  
And Melkor snarl at him, “Cut it out!”, releasing his arm from his brother’s grasp. 

“Sorry, brother”, Manwë hurries on to say as the lunch together is perfect: he doesn’t want to ruin their moment. Peculiar, his brother has always been peculiar. 

Melkor checks his phone, opening the draft and hesitating a couple of seconds on the ‘send’ button. It’s only a matter of 1 mm before the electricity from his thumb sends the message. 

“Well, before deciding to get marry I got a period of uncertainty”, Manwë exaggerates about the two minutes he needed to ask for his wife’s hand, “You know, when everything depends on you it’s not easy. But you have a significant other?” 

“Mmm”, Melkor nods without lifting his eyes from the message. 

“We should meet! All together! I mean me, you and our other halves. Why don’t you come to us one of these evenings?” 

“We will have to see”, Melkor cuts off. 

“Ah I understand!”, giving him another little hit with the elbow, “The beginning of a romance! Everything is perfect in the beginning, isn’t it?”, and Manwë goes ahead relentless as Melkor glances at him and rises his eyebrow.  
Then he deletes the draft.  Trust him.  
No, that’s not only a matter of trust, Melkor corrects his thought, but a matter of believe. And if he has to trust in someone, also from a personal point of view, this one can be only Mairon. The only person he has ever loved, after his father. 

“By the way”, Manwë changes again the topic, and also expression. 

“All right, give it to me fast”, Melkor says, anticipating what’s going to happen. 

“Last Sunday I was in our family home, as I told you”, Manwë goes on when he’s sure to have his brother’s attention fully, “I went there with my wife to meet dad. You know once per month I regularly meet him”. 

After some seconds of stillness Melkor’s heart starts to beat again in the exact moment in which Manwë puts his hand on his arm but in a different way that time. The touch is light and warm, not vigorous nor possessive: if Manwë was not Manwë, he would have described it as sly. 

“I’ve talked with him about us, my brother, about the meeting we had last week and, believe me, he was so glad to listen to what happened between us”.  
Manwë eyes are shining with sincere commotion. Pure and innocent in sentiments he has always been. And blind to reality. 

“I bet that he said he cannot live without us as well as we cannot live without him because we are his family, family is everything and we are nothing without his love and will. And I bet that you believed his words, as usual”.  
The light of sadness in his brother’s eyes confirms Melkor’s words. 

“Don’t be so bitter, brother”, Manwë lowers his gaze, “he really would like to meet you. What about you? Would you meet him?” 

Melkor doesn’t reply. 

“On Sunday I will be there again, why don’t you join us? Alone or with your partner if you like it best. I don’t need to know it now, you’ll give me the answer on Friday, when we meet, so you have a couple of days to collect your thoughts” 

“I will think about it”, Melkor cuts off. 

Manwë smiles like a child, placing his hand on his shoulder, satisfied by Melkor’s reaction, as it’s unexpectedly calm and placid. 

“Brother, I’ve seen some journal articles about the building you designed; you’ve kept for you the attic, isn’t it? It seems magnificent but there were only shoots of the external part: I really would love to see it inside” 

“I’ve not accepted any interview or photo feature about my home”, Melkor explains, “As well as about my private life” 

“I agree with you”, Manwë promptly replies, “it’s not easy to defend our privacy nowadays as in the past, you know, also because of dad’s job. Every little thing we do has an article somewhere in newspapers”, a bit of silence, then: “by the way I’ve not told you about the weird thing that happened to me once, when I was on vacancy with my wife-” 

“The bill”, Melkor stops a waiter with a tone of voice between the pleading and the upset, “Sorry, brother, but I have to come back to my office: it’s unusual for me a two hours lunch break” 

“Well”, replies Manwë, “me too to be honest. I didn’t get any email so now I’m quite worried about the situation there” 

* 

When Mairon hears the door’s lift opening, he glances quickly at his boss as he follows the path to reach his office. 

When Melkor steps in his office floor the view of Mairon at his desk in the open space folding a significant number of papers relieves him considerably. 

“How was the lunch, Mr. Bauglir?” 

“Deadly filled with boredom” 

“Did you set an hypothetical date?” 

“No, I did something better as we have a sure date on Friday” 

“This Friday?”, Mairon asks in surprise. 

Melkor smirks as answer. 

“This means that we need a legal contract in three copies plus one for Friday”, Mairon takes pen and notes, writing something down quickly. 

 

*Evening 

“And how was your lunch?”, while the younger man grasps at his arm: the several jolts are so sudden that he almost lost the balance. Melkor slides one hand around his waist, not only to give sustain at him.  
Mairon loves his touch, so possessive and hungry in every occasion, his hands so big and hot and enveloping. 

“Good but very quick as we’ve eaten in only twenty minutes and, you know, I really dislike fast meals”. 

Melkor smiles as the free hand rests below Mairon’s ear, the thumb caressing sweetly his cheek sprinkled of small and light freckles.  
The doubt and the mistrust he felt was not for Mairon. But for himself. 

“I’ve spent extra time in the administrator’s office”, Mairon continues, observing Melkor’s eyes lost on his face, pensive and sweet at the same time, “they didn’t find some papers. Can you believe it? We are in no one’s hand” 

“Where did you eat?” 

“In the same place we were last time but I don’t remember the name, you know, I barely notice these things”; then asks Mairon: “was your lunch so terrible?” 

“With you it would have been more intriguing, decisively”, kissing his temple. 

“Did you have a civil exchange?” 

“Two old friends sharing secrets”, Melkor jokes. 

“Impressive!”, Mairon comments, “What a pity I’ve lost all those interesting things about your life sharing, such as the ‘risotto with gold’ recipe: I cannot image what your brother proposed to you…perhaps meatballs with platinum filling” 

“Put aside your sarcasm and don’t worry”, Melkor smirks, “We will have together more occasions, you can bet on it as he has already invited me and ‘my partner’ for a couples dinner” 

“Oh please no”, he says disgusted; then he adds with a hint of surprise, “but you’ve told him about us?”, Mairon lifts his eyebrow. 

“No”, Melkor tries to catch Mairon’s thoughts by his reaction, “but actually I think we would enjoy a lot events like those”, says Melkor with a sinister sparkle in his eyes, “it’s you who said we are diabolical” 

Mairon laughs lightly, totally enraptured by the light in his eyes and he can’t help to kiss his cheek. “But you know what? After seeing your brother I’m warmly reconsidering my family” 

“That’s cruel from you” 

“You know I’m cruel”, says Mairon tenderly biting his soft and plump lower full lip, loving that little thing, dominant yet gentle. 

 

***Wednesday 

Melkor’s sipping at his afternoon coffee, silently studying his assistant who tirelessly notes something on both the planners. Mairon seriously seems to enjoy taking note of everything in those two planners; even the sticky note’s colours he uses show the different tasks of the day, working also as useful reminders with a quick glance. 

When Mairon lifts his head from the planner, waiting for instructions, he finds the boss’ eyes glued on him. Yes, he’s staring at him but his mind meanders somewhere else: he doesn’t blink, he sips mechanically and his frowning forehead displays concentration. 

“Mr. Bauglir?” 

“One of the main point about the meeting on Friday it will be the rate: the percentage of profit that his company should receive”, says Melkor, keeping his absent-minded status. 

“As long as I know, for the amount we’re going to require the percentage is around 20-25% plus annual or quarterly bonus namely 50%”, Mairon says. 

Melkor places the empty cup on the tray. Then he bends backward, along with the chair, resting the head against the headrest for some seconds before speaking again: 

“How the meeting with my brother will end?”. 

Mairon asks himself if it’s a rhetorical question. “I don’t catch the meaning of your words, Mr. Bauglir”. 

Melkor gets out of his chair before explaining his idea. 

“Two possibilities: with one we grant him the normal high percentage, let’s say 25% and we could add against my will and interests – only apparently, of course – but the price to pay is that I’ll squeeze his psychological dependence in my hand in front of his lawyer”, Melkor’s eyes sparkles with a vivid light, “and the effect will be at long term, as he’ll do exactly what I want in future, both in our work and in our private life because he feels guilty for what happened between us”.

“With the other one he will fall on his knees under my power, obliging him to accept a lower rate – let’s say 17% with only 20% bonus - but, at the end, he will accept it, not only without protesting but happy like a child with a fistful of candies”, now Melkor stands, towering over Mairon for he stalked around his desk, stopping exactly in front of him, “but here we have no long term effect, just a quick sadistic compensation that burns out in itself”. 

“I think you should not confuse business with your personal…falling out” 

Melkor bends over him: “Play with me, Mairon” 

Mairon stares at his lips, at those glacial eyes, his mind getting numb by his scent, his cock having a twitch inside his pants. And subconsciously he licks his lips, perhaps in anticipation at what must surely come next. 

“Play with me and feel the power running into your veins”. 

Mairon’s cock stiffens a bit more: he would chew those lips until they bleed. But one hand fists at Melkor’s tie, pulling him closer: 

“Promise me there will be no consequences on _our_ work, promise it” 

“I would not fuck my career up”, replies Melkor caressing Mairon’s lips with the tip of the nose. 

“I would not be so sure with you, Mr. Bauglir”, says Mairon as his cock’s straining against the trousers, his heart bursting any moment as dismay and excitement course in equal measure through his core, “you’re too irrational sometimes and, when it happens, you are not able to control yourself fully, guided only by your blind hate, inflated ego and self-absorbed vanity”. 

Eventually their mouths crash together slowly snogging each other, losing control of their lips as they slide all over each other’s. 

“Who’s not able to control himself?”, as he reaches for Mairon’s cock, smirking under the kiss, feeling the hardening length between his legs, squeezing and caressing his half-hard flesh, feeling his growing appreciation for his intentions. 

All of a sudden Mairon stands, grabbing again at his tie, and presses him against the desk, pulling him far from him and to him, at once.  He opens his eyes, bright and flaming with lust and need, mirroring Melkor’s while they’re exploring each other’s mouth: all control is gone, and it thrills Mairon as everything is licit unto him now, even fuck him on his desk. 

His assistant urges him against the desk; the younger man is not working with his seraphic calm, not this time; Mairon’s hands quickly and sensually sway and move between his legs, sliding his hands along the strong thighs, his elegant fingers rapidly enjoying the soft silk cloth of the suit.  
And Melkor, he resists his daring, his dominance, his insolence not at all. 

Burning is his desire, Mairon’s hands works fumbling with his trousers’s zip to slip them down, along with the undergarments, finding any kind of resistance from the architect, before his own trousers drops to the floor.  
One of his hands wanders down to reach his buttocks, the other finds the back of his hair, his beautiful dark and soft hair, gripping them: forcefully he thrusts himself deeper. 

And, at the end, with the sound of papers sweeping everywhere and the cup toppling somewhere to the ground, Melkor finds himself with his young assistant amidst the massive thighs, lying on the back, displayed on his sacred desk, legs unashamedly spread and bent, moaning, needing to be fucked hard, not wanting to wait any longer. The hand under the ass moves to his back to pull and force him forwards, onto Mairon’s full-erect shaft. 

The younger man leans forward over him, the other hand left the grasp on his hair to grab on his own cock guiding it between his thighs, taking Melkor’s earlobe between the teeth and stroking his ear with the tongue, hungry and high for the anticipation of sliding in and out of him.  
He breaks the mouth’s play when he pushes inside Melkor, when his hard length nudges eagerly at his entrance: with his eyes locked on his he gives him no time to react, driving his cock into his boss, deeper, harder and faster as he enters Melkor.  
Mairon could drown in his eyes when he penetrates him. 

Melkor’s hand moves to reach and touch himself. The younger man smirks at his impatience, on purpose he ignored his huge arousal waiting for him to do that, adoring to see him touch himself a bit while they look at each other. He entered swiftly but rides him with slow, long strokes loving the tightness that encloses him. When Melkor starts to moan pleadingly, Mairon looks at him hazily, lovingly, seeing his eyes closed for a moment. He’s lost in his softly body rocking while caressing him, feeling both the physical sensation of penetration around his cock and the passion of being as one within him. Connected and joined, Mairon moans and sighs, shivers and arches his body, rocking on a wave of sensual fucking motion. 

He’s lost in pleasure, barely conscious when Melkor takes control, straddling him wildly: grabbing at Mairon’s ass with a firm grasp, Melkor drops forward onto him with all his weight, and, sensing Mairon’s balls in contact with his ass, he stops. Then, he rocks his hips and body backward, letting the cock almost get out from him before pushing forward harder, growling from the deep of his throat as he’s taking the whole length back inside him. 

Mairon’s hips push up, meeting his movements guided by Melkor’s hands around the ass, driving him deeper as he groans and desperately tries to capture his lips again, leaning forward: he can’t live without joining their lips together. And he moans against them as his mouth finds them, tasting, sucking, kissing, devouring him. 

But Melkor wants more, he need more: with his arms well-grounded on his side, he lifts his hips, rocking them forward and back as the younger man drives the cock into him, Melkor’s body fucking his cock, meeting his thrusts, grinding against him, his body alive with violent pleasure. Mairon grabs his strong hips, pulling him down onto his cock: it’s like a fight, and even if he had done hundred different things to take the control over him again, nothing at that moment could have changed as it’s Melkor who’s riding him as Mairon fucks him.  
The sound of the hot flesh slaps together, the massive desk faintly creaking under their weight, Mairon’s cock reaching deeper, Melkor mouldering around it taking everything from him, wanting everything of him: his soul, his passion, his fury, his love. 

Mairon’s orgasm explodes deep inside him, plunging the shaft into him. He only stops when he drives into Melkor one last time, holding him deep inside his boss, shockwaves flashing through his body on fire, fucking each other in a way never thought before; Melkor’s orgasm comes with Mairon’s  fingers wrapped around him, giving him firm, hard and satisfying strokes, exactly like he loves them, with the same pace of the fucking.  
Their climaxes come crashing together, all else forgotten at the feet of the desk. 

Melkor still lies down on his back, Mairon along with him, embracing him tightly and possessively. They don’t move for several long minutes, savouring the feel of being locked together, their tongues meeting again in a satisfied kiss. They care of nothing but each other and, when Mairon tightens the embrace around his dressed chest, Melkor feels blissed. 

“The first one”, says Mairon with a lower tone of voice, at some point, still feeling some light quivers for their intercourse. 

“What?”, whispers Melkor, playing with one lock of coppery hair between his fingers, still lost in their post-orgasm glow, unwilling to come back to reality. 

“With the contract”, continues Mairon, “I don’t care about your brother’s psyche but give him money, at least we are sure to not screw everything up”. 

 

*Evening 

They are still hand in hand when they step in the tube, taking their place in the car’s corner. And they are still hand in hand when Mairon speaks: 

“Power, it’s a matter of power”, says Mairon, “and psychology, obviously, as everything between you and your brother is a matter of psychology” 

“He will say ‘yes’ at the end. Keep it in your mind, when we will act together” 

“But”, Mairon goes ahead, “why it’s so important to you to have power over him?”. 

Melkor doesn’t answer for he has no answer for it. It’s a feeling. It’s a state of mind, his state of mind. 

“How stupid I’m! Of course, your father favours him and not you, even if you are the first born. Oh, I can image…he literary anguished you with this idea of primogeniture and, then, he punished you for not doing his will. It’s clear. In any case your brother is steadily wrapped around your finger but he will never leave your father’s side” 

“But, you know what?”, Mairon goes on, “I have a good news for you as your father favours neither him nor you: he chose only to love himself above all and everyone” 

“Shut up, Mairon” 

“Sometimes you’re like a kid, you know it? A spoiled kid”

 

***Thursday 

“We submit it online then you call that-”, Melkor, checks his phone, “Irmo Lórien, you find the contact in the email I’m sending you” 

“To say what?” 

“Just to inform that we applied as required”, says Melkor tipping on his phone, “and to get confirmation the procedure is successful, giving him the application number”, placing the phone on the desk. “You come to me tomorrow evening”, he asserts, without asking. 

Mairon gives him a dirty look. “No”, he says. 

“Why not?”, not really in the right mood of listening to another Mairon’s weirdness. 

“Your turn”, Mairon calmly explains. 

“It’s important”, Melkor adds with a lower tone of voice. 

“Also my ‘no’ is important. What’s the matter?” 

“Just come”, Melkor’s face serious and impenetrable, his cold and voracious eyes fixed upon him, “ _please_ ”. 

Melkor added ‘please’. How many times Mairon has heard him saying ‘please’ in two months? Once? One and half to be generous. 

Mairon sighs but, then he nods without speaking.  
Melkor replies through a slight smile on his lips. 

 

***Friday 

The wide – and improper – smirk that paints Melkor’s lips in a vivid shade of red is not due to the happiness he’s feeling toward him at that very moment. But Manwë couldn’t know that. 

“Brother!” 

Passively Melkor lets his brother hug him, replying, as usual, giving him a pack on the back, hugging him only with half side.  
At precisely the moment Manwë stepped in the entrance of the building, keeping his speech with the man on his side, Melkor sensed a kind of aversion to the legal. He hates every sort of lawyer. 

“Please, meet my brilliant lawyer, Mr. Úrion” 

“Bauglir” 

“It’s an honour, Mr. Bauglir, to meet you personally: I’m one admirer of your works”, while the young man shakes his hand with vigour and bends lightly his head with respect. 

At least he’s well mannered, thinks Melkor.  
Mr. Úrion has, approximately, his assistant’s age, perhaps he’s two or three years older. The soft wavy of his shoulder-length hair emphasises his dark ash blond colour, giving him a plain and beatific aspect. His dark eyes are keen but peaceful, in spite of the profession he pursues. The clear colours he has chosen for the suit fits him, enhancing the slim shape but not so tall form.  
And yet Melkor doesn’t know why but he rationally doesn’t like him at all. Probably because he’s a lawyer, moreover his brother’s lawyer. 

“Please, this way”, Melkor shows the way to the lift. 

* 

Sitting in the classy meeting room, on the same floor of Melkor’s office but on the opposite side, Mairon’s quietly controlling all the folders in front of him, feeling restless but strangely thrilled. Gripping, that meeting has something gripping and he’s excited at the idea of acting with him, to explore a subliminal situation. Obviously business is business, so Melkor’s weapons are sensibly reduced, considerably resized, but it will lead a sort of curiosity and fascination to see how he slides the main focus from an economical to a personal point of view.  
When he hears the lift’s door opening and the boss’ steps together with his brother’s clear voice approaching, he gives a quick glance at the service table, checking the coffee and the cups available on it, then he puts four glasses and four bottles of mineral water in the middle of the massive main table making them handy for all the participants. 

It’s Mairon who greets Manwë firstly, as politeness requires: “Mr. Súlimo”, shaking his hand. 

“Mr. Gorthaur, glad to meet you again”, Manwë answers, placing his left hand on his right shoulder, feeling a kind of fondness for the younger man: after all, if he got the opportunity to renew his relationship with the brother, it’s only for his merit. 

“This is Mr. Úrion, my brilliant lawyer”, then, speaking to Mr. Úrion, he explain: “Mr. Gorthaur is Mr. Bauglir’s precious architect and assistant”.  
The two young men shake mutually their hands without a word but with a kind wave of the heads. 

“I think we'll begin now”, Melkor starts when they had taken their seat at the table: Melkor with his assistant on the right, Manwë with his brother on the right and his lawyer on the left, “First I'd like to welcome you again and thank you all for coming at such short notice: two days is not a big amount of time, especially in our work. Then, I would like to say how glad I am: it’s a pleasure to be here today”. 

Manwë nods silently, keeping his touched eyes on his beloved brother. 

“Let me start by reviewing why we are here. The purpose of this meeting is to set the process for a financial marriage in profit sharing, defining obligation, limits and economic benefits. We will have three things: a diagram that shows how the process will work, a list of benefits involved in it, and a step-by-step plan for getting it implemented. Then we proceed with the contract”. 

“What’s exciting about this?”, Melkor goes on as a perfect landlord, “if we are successful, and I personally think we will, truly what’s happening here and now will change the idea of economy in the next years: taking away power to the banks and giving it to the…innovators, as we are”. 

Then Melkor hits his brother, the real target of his speech: “Not only I’ve chosen _you_ , brother, for a financial matter: I have not simply hand-picked your company among many for its influence”, he pauses a while, “Above all for I felt you had the understanding of what is needed and the vision to create something much better than we currently have”. 

Mairon pretends to take some notes on his agenda to hide his smirk: a dose of flattery always works. Then he quickly glances at his boss’ brother:  Manwë’s smiling with emotion at Melkor’s words.  
Then he moves his eyes on the lawyer, so focused, so absorbed in analysing the situation drop by drop. Manwë’s assistant gives him a look back, one staring at the other for a while until he switches his look away, focusing again on Melkor’s words. 

“And it’s no accident that I defined our partnership with the word ‘financial marriage’: a family - as we are - tends to chase a common purpose in the most effective and valuable way, keeping care of all the parts engaged”, Melkor’s voice is delightfully smooth and deep, sounding heartfelt and inebriant. 

“That depends about what kind of contract you’re going to propose to my beneficiary, Mr. Súlimo and his company”, Mr. Úrion promptly says, his voice sounds cold and metallic as the bitter taste of the business.  
Manwë turns his head to meet his lawyer’s eyes with a bit of dismay painted on his face. 

Nice guy, Melkor thinks smirking at the same time, not inclined to words: it will be even more funny to kick him out of the agreement. 

“It will be satisfactory for both the parts”, Mairon quickly steps in, “but we have to find together a way to deal. What we want to say, Mr. Bauglir and I, is that: the process is looking to each of us to bring the ideas and the focus that will create a much better higher outcome”, he adds, “This path is new for the both of us, so we personally think the best choice is to proceed carefully” 

“Broadly speaking  we agree, Mr. Súlimo and I, with the approach taken”, Mr. Úrion faces openly Mairon, “unless this carefulness means a lower profit for Mr. Súlimo”. 

Melkor glances at the both of the younger men: they know each other, it’s evident.  
But he goes on: 

“My offer is 17%, plus quarterly bonus around 40% but we can still discuss it” 

“The policy of our company plans to never accept an agreement with less than 30%”, Mr. Úrion answers back immediately. 

But Melkor knows that play, short and distort.  
“I would remember you, Mr. Úrion, that _my company_ is taking on itself the maximum theoretical risk” 

“You can do better than this, Mr. Bauglir” 

‘Yes, you can bet on it’, thinks Melkor, starting his role-play. 

“I thought it was not necessary to reveal I got another proposal from another company; I’m not going to reveal the name of it to not break the trust they place in me. As I’ve already said, I would develop the plan with you, my brother, giving priority to _us_ and _us_ only” 

“We didn't get a chance, Mr. Bauglir, to tell how important we consider the partnership between our companies”, Mr. Úrion keeps his position, “but this doesn’t change the effects as the-” 

“Please”, Manwë interrupts him, placing one reassuring hand on his assistant’s arm, for a couple of seconds before releasing it, looking at him once again; he’s not going to be passive while his legal is blind to what he and his brother are building _together_. 

And Melkor seizes the moment to spread a good dose of personal doubts, knowing his brother’s reaction to them, “Apparently I did wrong in selecting your company, brother, and _trusting in you_ once again” 

“Please, forgive him”, Manwë speaks, feeling a bit improper for his lawyer’s behaviour, “my legal assistant really has a high sense of justice, the reason why I’ve chosen him”, adds with tenderness, “and he’s here to protect me from an economical point of view” 

“I have to hand him that he’s really good in it”, Melkor hides the smirk he would do, omitting the words he would add consequentially. 

“But what is running here is something more deep than the mere economic aspect”, Manwë goes on with his peaceful tone of voice. 

Mairon will never truly understand how deeply rooted and powerful is Melkor’s grab at his brother’s subconscious. 

“Nevertheless, as executive director, I have to authoritatively consider it as fundamental”, placing, this time, his hand on his brother’s arm to rest on it, “fittingly you talked about risk, so, please, consider my personal offer to you: I ask for a higher rate but I’m offering you to share the theoretical risk between both our companies, in order to split in half equally not only proceeds but also burdens, _as a family_ ” 

This is more than Mairon was expecting. He gives a glance at the legal, the distress painted on face says a lot about what he’s thinking; but probably the worst part is the feel he’s feeling, of not being able to do anything to change how things are running under his nose: for sure he’s aware of the fact that Melkor is conceding as a personal favour something that is basic.  
Everything, in fact, is following exactly what Melkor planned, giving him the power to grant to his brother a right as a favour and taking everything, visible and invisible, from his offer. 

“This way you can reconfigure your offering as you get an active involvement from my company’s side, _my side_ ”, Manwë ends his speech, placing his right hand on his heart. 

Melkor takes his fake time to ponder the decision, a decision already taken two days before. 

“25% and 40% on quarterly earnings”, Melkor says eventually, his pride unwilling to give in before whoever. 

“I think I may consider myself satisfied”, smiles Manwë with sincere happiness. 

* 

“Brother, please, I was hoping to have a second to a private talk with you in your office”.  
Oh yes, their father’s matter. 

“Please, Mr. Úrion, help yourself”, says the architect, showing the service table.  
And Melkor gives a quick glance at Mairon before getting out from the room, following Manwë, but his assistant has already got out of the chair to reach the table, filling one cup with the strong coffee. 

And Mairon speaks, hearing the dull sound of the door clunked shut: “Coffee, Eönwë?” 

“Actually I would rather drink something strong, Mairon. Really I could not image to meet you today” 

Mairon smirks lightly. That was a surprise also for him.  
“Sorry we don’t have alcoholics here”, then, “You still like it with cream and a lot of sugar?” 

“You remember it?” 

“I don’t think your tastes are changed up till now” 

“I’m so predictable?”

“You like your safeties, your routine”, giving him the cup filled. 

“That’s why you left me?” 

Mairon glances at him two second before reaching again the service table.  
“You know why I left you”. 

Eönwë doesn’t reply, he lowers his gaze sipping silently the cup of coffee in his hand.  
That one is Mairon’s coffee. He can remember the many mornings spent savouring it in the kitchen - that’s still Eönwë’s kitchen; he can recall the many times he told him that his coffee was too strong for him, and now, he can feel how desperately he searched that deep, strong morning taste on his tongue for ten months.  
He doesn’t want to ruin the pale equilibrium between them. He has always seen him in a contradictory  but intriguing way: sometimes as a wave of melting lava, passionate and burning; sometimes as cold as ice, with his composure and his eternal silences; sometimes timid – even shy – and reserved when he has to speak about his inner world.  
They have never argued during their relationship, neither during their break-up: Mairon is not a man of arguments and he doesn’t tolerate the high tone of voice as well as the angry outbursts.  
Often Eönwë has thought that he would have chosen to hate him with all his heart instead of feeling such a deep respect and admiration for him. 

“So you work for Bauglir now” 

“Since two months” 

“You know, your boss is a shark in skin suit: he cut me out the situation in less than ten minutes” 

Mairon smiles with a smirk of satisfaction as he pours the coffee for himself: that’s precisely what happened and Melkor used Manwë to do it. 

“Anyhow, nice hit, Mairon, undoubtedly. But I’m not surprised, I knew you’d come out in ‘your world'” 

“And you are Súlimo’s lawyer now”, Mairon sits down in the chair next to him, “it seems that we are building a good future each one in his world” 

“Just I don’t understand why his assistant” 

“I don’t catch what you mean”, replies Mairon stretching his legs under the table, crossing them at the ankles. 

“No, well, only I don’t think it’s a job that fits you. Your professor proposed you to become his teaching assistant at university _even before_ you accomplished with honour and you said ‘no’ to become…a simple personal assistant? Well, there’s a huge chasm” 

There are few things in this world that bother Mairon more than one unrequired and rushed judgment; particularly if it’s about his life. 

“Once again we have a different vision about things that fit me and, once again, you focus only on partial events without considering what you can’t see”, Mairon cuts along, not willing of further explanation with him. 

“There was a time when I could read inside you” 

“I’m afraid that time was an illusion” 

“Six years are not an illusion” 

“Yet”, Mairon rises lightly his eyebrow. 

“You make everything looks so terribly easy” 

“Not easy, but clear”, Mairon says with a huge dose of self-confidence, “At least to me” 

“You’re right as I really thought I could be able to make the difference in your life” 

“That was not your job in our relationship, Eönwë” 

“Incredible how I can make happy every single person around me but you” 

“That’s the point: I’m not ‘every single person around you’” 

“I didn’t mean to dismiss you” 

“First you flattened me out in your mind: I’m not like you”, Mairon pauses, uneasily keeping his serene politeness, “and second I could not – and still I can’t -  grant you the safety you searched inside me”. He sips to his coffee before going ahead, “Everything depends about what kind of hell we live inside every day and what kind of hell we shape, accordingly with other people; then, the two ways to escape from it, to escape the suffering”.  
Mairon places the cup on the desk, minding to put a napkin between it and the cup. "The first is easy for many: accept the inferno and become part of it until the point of not seeing it anymore. That was your choice, what you’ve chosen for yourself”. 

Eönwë stares at the man in front of him with his dark and deep eyes; Mairon has always been sure of himself, but he has never seen him so placed in the centre of his life, so confident in the path he has taken. And it’s painful to accept that Mairon, without him, is a fulfilled person. 

“The second is pure risk, constantly demands caution and continuous learning”, Mairon keeps with his lucid speech, “Seek and recognise who and what, in the middle of hell, is not hell; then make it endure and give it space with your life. That’s my choice, Eönwë, and if you don’t burn in hell, you cannot understand it”. 

In that very moment Eönwë realises that, if once he really was in harmony with Mairon, that time is gone forever as now he is not able to understand him truly. 

“Do you miss me, sometimes?”, although he asks. 

“Don’t ask if you’re not ready for the answer” 

“Of course I went crazy when you left me after I asked you to marry me” 

“Thank you for giving a practical example and showing how distant was our point of view on our lives”, Mairon points out, “We moved in together only to find that you wrongly assumed cohabitation was the step before marriage. It’s absurd how far we were from each other, still keeping a thing that didn’t belong to us anymore” 

“You could have simply explained that you were not interested in marriage at all” 

“Now you’re talking with yourself and you’re not listening to me”, Mairon, always calm and tranquil, now is exasperated, “Don’t mix the layers: I’m not interested in marriage _with you_ ” 

“Yes, I got it eventually”, Eönwë goes ahead, “but I still miss you, Mairon, I miss the time we spent together” 

“No, you don’t miss me but the idea you had of me and that idea was not me”, then Mairon adds, “I’m in a relationship”. 

Eönwë lifts his eyes to watch him. “You feel good in it?” 

Mairon smiles lightly watching his dark strong coffee in the cup, savouring the taste that talks about Melkor and their story together: “Like never before”, then he watches him and quickly adds, “I didn't mean to be disrespectful or whatever but you are worth the truth, even if it’s pain _for you_ ” 

“I think you will be my eternal regret but there’s nothing I can do. No, well, I feel I did everything for you but it was not enough and, probably, I was wrong with you” 

“Eönwë, it’s not  matter of right and wrong and you know it; it’s only the thing that we stare at the world from two different points. Not always it’s a bad thing…but not all the time it reconcilable” 

“I understand”, speaks Eönwë, reading between the lines. But he cuts off his saying, hearing the brothers’ steps moving from Melkor’s office to reach the meeting room again. 

After all, what he could add to change the situation? Nothing, because with Mairon it’s everything or nothing and, with him, Mairon chose nothing, after giving him everything. 

* 

“Better than planned”, Melkor utters once they’re alone again, with an obscene smirk on his lips, “it was great”. 

Mairon gathers him in his arms, pressing himself forcefully against his strong chest; Melkor gasps not expecting that from his assistant. 

“What wanted your brother from you?”, Mairon asks. 

“Nothing, family issues” 

And Mairon stands on tiptoes to kiss him with urge: all he wants is him, him and him only. Then he dives again in his scent, burying his face against his neck, and Melkor can feel the warmth of his breath fluttering against his collar. 

“Look at me”, Melkor lifts his face by the chin, “You are…pissed off? With who you are annoyed?” 

“It’s nothing”, replies Mairon, burying again into his arms. 

Perhaps Melkor understands. “I’m not going to ask you anything”. 

“Good”, Mairon murmurs against his skin. 

“If I may say so”, Melkor jestes to make him smile again, “even I couldn’t get you so disturbed in two months like five minutes with that guy” 

Mairon giggles tightening his grab around the man. “Always self-referential” 

“Yeah”, concludes Melkor , “but now you’re smiling”, lifting again his face to look  at Mairon, once again relaxed. 

“Now get your stuff and go, my car is in the underground parking first level”, whispers Melkor on his lips, “then, we take pizza, the dude and we go”. 

“The dude”, Mairon laughs softly under their kiss; from ‘pain in the ass’ to ‘little pest ‘ and, now, ‘the dude’.  
Overall, it’s not that bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading ♥


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their long week-end. Hope you enjoy it :)

***Friday, some hours later 

“I’ve never been good at father-son relationship”, laughs softly Melkor. But the younger man smiles at him with a hint of sadness in his eyes. And then they finish it off by staring at each other for a moment that seems long and sweet. 

“Well, you want to know what I think?”, Mairon breaks the silence with a little of sarcasm in his voice, “And I can tell you that thanks to _my experience in the field_ ” 

Melkor studies him with curiosity. 

“It wasn’t easy for your father to have a son like you, either”. 

After some seconds of silence, Melkor gives him that one: “Probably you’re right”, he nods, “but with him it’s his way or nothing , so between succumbing and fighting I chose to fight him”. 

“I can’t say I have a bad relationship with my parents now”, Mairon says, while they intertwine their legs together under the hot and soft duvet, “maybe it’s the distance that makes everything a lot easier”. 

“Once you said it was your mother complicating things” 

“She and her cycle of toxicity…basically I’ve been the only one thing she had in her life”, Mairon explains, “The first step is to be aware that you have to break that vicious circle: it’s for your well-being and happiness. I’ve lived inside it for a long time but I know the wounds it caused in me, so I’ve saved myself from all the fragilities she shifted on me; it’s not easy, but you have to build your own life and experiences” 

“How everything started?” 

“With little things: saying ‘no’,  outlining my needs to myself and to them aloud, raising my personal walls that no one had to afford to cross. But the biggest rift was with the university – yes, _like you_ ”, Mairon beats. And Melkor smiles. 

“My parents don’t think ‘architect’ is a practical career choice” , Mairon goes on, placing a tiny kiss on his left nipple, “My father is a goldsmith and my grandfather before him so he simply assumed I would have kept our family tradition up as full-time job and not only as hobby during my free time” 

“Wait”, Melkor utters in surprise: how many things about that man he doesn’t know yet? “We could work together at many design pieces with your skills, you know it? Glass, crystal, wood with gold and metals in general…nothing better than this!” 

“Always at work, Mr. Bauglir”, smirks Mairon. 

Indeed Melkor would get out of the bed, Mairon with him, taking him to his dark home office to show him the design projects he has in the pipeline; but Melkor slows down enjoying the pleasure of an inebriating and suspended creativity running under their skin, silently: that moment is for them, for Mairon who tells not so easily about his past. And Melkor finds himself loving when the younger man speaks about it. 

“You have so many talents”, Melkor says giving him the right input to go on, “ _like me_ ”, he can’t help to whisper. 

“That’s why I’ve chosen this career: there are a lot of possibilities to develop all my abilities and not only in one strictly-defined direction. In the meanwhile I think my parents are full sure that I will end up starving in a slum somewhere one day or another!” 

“Did you forgive them?” 

“I do not need to forgive them, because I’ve never blamed them for that. Honestly I think they were trying to help me to get the preparation necessary to reach my goals as an adult, and to forget the ‘dream of a teenager’ – as they would describe my career from their own point of view. I just took my own way as I don’t need the support of anyone, but I protected that idea of discipline as it really helps me in my life” 

“If only I had a glimpse of your calm”, says Melkor playing with a lock of his hair.

“It works not by transitivity so you have to work on it” 

“No”, he whispers, “it doesn’t belong to me”. 

Mairon smiles softly at him, mesmerized by the eternal swirling turmoil in his pale blue eyes. 

“Do you think they don’t trust in your potentials?” 

“Oh “, Mairon tilts the head on the side, “I’ve never thought about it”. 

“Well”, after a pensive moment he goes on, “I think my parents have this vision: the higher you set your aspirations, the bigger there will be room for a potential disappointment or even failure. As a matter of fact they would have chosen for me an ‘already built life’ - as you said last week - for convenience, to not have problems or worries. I can’t blame them for that: security is another way of living, valuable as many others” 

“Exactly the contrary of my father’s thought: basically they tried to protect you” 

“In their vision but, of course, the world doesn’t work that way. Shield your son from pain or errors and he’ll never really live, he’ll never be fully adult”, Mairon comments. 

“As well as making him live in a constant challenge”, Melkor adds. Mairon kisses his skin with incredible tenderness, sealing the kiss immediately with his cheek. He can barely image how much he suffered during his childhood. 

“Probably they wanted me to succeed at everything but never getting hurt. It’s a noble desire but if we don’t invest everything of ourselves in our aim, it won’t really be ‘us’: it will never be part of us. So it will remain outside and far from us, that is forever _incidental_ ”, the younger man pauses a while, as Melkor stares at him and, smiling, tucks a lock of his coppery hair behind his ear, “I truly believe that to achieve our own dream is reward enough in itself, even if we never quite reach it”, then Mairon quickly adds, “Of course in me there’s not this placid certainty: I will get nothing less than what I want” 

“And what you want, Mairon?”, asks Melkor with a smirk. 

“Everything”, Mairon answers kissing again his left nipple. 

“See now why we are so similar: you don’t know words as low self-worth, or regret and despair – exactly like me” 

“Always self-referential”, smiles Mairon sucking lightly but effectively on the same spot. 

“Mmm”, Melkor closes his eyes as Mairon’s hand reaches the goal, “Would you come with me on Sunday?” 

“Where?”, Mairon asks pinching his right nipple. 

“I need to talk with my father”, Melkor says in one calm breath. 

Mairon lifts this face, releasing the nipple from the wet grasp of his hot mouth, watching him with awe: “Are you serious?” 

“When exactly I was not serious with you?” 

Mairon softly places the chin on his chest and the hot breath from the nose caresses Melkor’s skin. The sharp and curious hazel eyes, framed with those long and reddish eyelashes, scan silently his face: so proud and strangely calm. 

“I realised I’ve always _done_ something against him but I’ve never _talked_ with him”, Melkor says pensive, “a reaction is not a reason, and now I feel like saying my reasons”. 

Mairon nods in understanding and approval: he actually could have said those words or something very close. “You want to change things between you or make some differences?” 

“I don’t think it’s possible, but I do what I do for myself not for anyone else”, ends Melkor. 

Mairon silently casts his eyes down along Melkor’s body: Tevildo is sleeping belly up exactly in the middle of his lower belly. 

“And-” 

“The dude here comes with us”, Melkor interrupts him immediately, predicting what Mairon was about to say, “If you can hold him for two hours and half in a car”

“It’s a torture!” 

“But with my car and my drive no more than one hour and something” 

“Talking about reasons, at least give me a good one to do it” 

“I need you on my side, _my love_ ”, Melkor says stroking lightly his hair.  
Mairon fills his lungs breathing deeply: that moment is so true and perfect and he feels complete. 

“You know”, jokes Mairon, “My cat will end up traumatised by our relationship” 

“I think _our_ cat will be happy in our love - as we are - if we give him a bit of continuity” 

“What are you suggesting precisely?” 

“Nothing”, lies Melkor, “I’m just saying that he’s young and now he learns how his future will run. So, as soon as he is used to stay in my home as well as in my car - and I would add that he seems to have mistaken my home for the cat playground - all this will be perfectly normal for him” 

Actually Tevildo has the best days of his life in Melkor’s house: stairs, wardrobes, few but high furniture, bookshelves in his home office, drawers and king size bed in the bedroom, stools and couch in the living room, and - not at least - high windows framed with wood. To not talk about salmon and fish dinners. 

“Why I cannot catch any kind of annoyance in your voice?”, asks Mairon with sarcasm. 

“Because I’m not annoyed” 

“It’s an honour to see such a cat behaviourist at work” 

“Little insolent, perhaps I don’t like cat…but it doesn’t mean that I don’t have a lot of experience with them” 

“True”, Mairon states, without hiding a sincere smile. It cannot be denied there’s a good feeling between Melkor and Tevildo. Moreover, it’s untrue to say that Melkor doesn’t like Tevildo. Or vice-versa. 

“So, it’s a yes?” 

“I’m giving you too much easy ‘yes’ lately”, Mairon smiles. 

“Now you can go on with your kisses”, Melkor prompts him, as the first task of the week-end is achieved successfully. 

 

***Saturday 

Melkor worked restlessly in the kitchen, revealing nothing about the plan he had in his mind; and Mairon used that time to enjoy what he likes best with his cat: a twenty minutes’ walk far away from the city centre and a little nap on the more-than-comfortable couch in Melkor’s living room, cuddling Tevildo on his chest, with the pleasant sound of his man working for him, to serve him the perfect and delicious dinner for that Saturday night together. 

“The first step”, says Melkor, three hours and half later, “a drop of this to set your mouth up”, handing him an elegant glass filled with three fingers of white wine. 

“Oh”, Mairon smiles, “cannot wait what’s coming next” 

“A tasting menu for you” 

“For me?” 

“Yes, I’ve planned it around you” 

“You’re amazing”, Mairon says. 

“And beautiful and erotic and unique”, Melkor smiles proudly. 

“And narcissist and self-referential”, smirks Mairon, “anyway, that’s interesting to taste through food how you see me” 

“Actually it has two name: ‘Mairon’ or ‘foreplay’” 

“Now you’re trying to be cool” 

“Said Mairon” 

“It seems you know what you’re about, as usual”, Mairon comments while Melkor leads him by his hand in the kitchen. 

“The first dish has to be tasted standing in my arms”, Melkor says with a lower and seductive tone of voice, embracing him and taking a finger food porcelain spoon from a small wood tray placed on the kitchen bench, guiding it towards Mairon’s mouth. 

“May I know what I'm going to eat?”, asks Mairon as the colour, a strong tone of clear green, is just a bit unusual. 

“Of course not”, replies Melkor, “You have to trust me. And-”, Melkor stops the spoon before Mairon takes it in his mouth, “you have to tell me every little sensation you feel”, guiding finally it inside his mouth. 

The soft foam melts quickly on Mairon’s tongue, giving the intense taste of sea out, softened by the frozen and delicate little piece of white fish leaned on the top of it. The extremely cold sensation in his mouth sends a strong shiver along Mairon’s spine and it reaches his nipples directly, hardening them almost painfully in one second.  
Staring at him in surprise, the last flavour hits his mouth, intense but polite, a dry aroma, that works as a mouth cleaner, driving all the tastes into a simple and satisfactory closure. 

Mairon breaths out heavily, shivering again, the cold effect not entirely spent, observing Melkor’s light smirk. “Now I understand the name”, he says with astonishment, while Melkor’s fingers check his reaction touching lightly his hard nipple through the tee, “that was intense” 

“I’m just getting started”, Melkor says handing him the glass of white wine they’re sharing before eating his portion.Then he bends over, claiming his lips with a long and gentle kiss, gently sucking on his tongue, meeting the taste of wine inside Mairon’s cold mouth and enjoying the tiny moan escaped from his lips. 

“Now we sit”, says Melkor, releasing the grasp on him to pull out the oven two small and elegant serving trays made of black granite stone. 

Mairon takes his place at the table, the amazing sensation of the wood under his fingertips. The hand-chop beef tartare sends another shiver along his spine: the raw meat elegantly placed in the middle of the dish has something extremely erotic and sinful; the black colour of the truffle caviar leaned on the top of it make the view even more sensual.  
Mairon doesn’t know what to expect from the taste and he takes the first little mouthful with uncontrollable desire. Melkor drinks the view of the younger man urging at the foretaste: Mairon closes his eyes to feel that delicate taste in his mouth; and Melkor smirks with satisfaction when he opens again his eyes to watch him with astonishment in his eyes. 

“Oh, delicious”, Mairon comments, feeling on his tongue the simple but effective contrast between the sweet meat seasoned only in oil, black pepper and a taste he’s not able to recognise; the salty effect of the fish gives what the seasoning is not offering, adding a wonderfully earthy finish to the dish, harmonizing the taste fully. Another bite he wants, another possibility to explores Melkor’s vision of him.  
And the second mouthful reveals the intoxicating part hidden in the centre of the tartare: small pears of white vinegar that, combined with the meat, give an electrifying yet balanced aggressiveness on the back of Mairon’s mouth.  
“Perfect”, Mairon whispers and the deep breath filling his lungs brings pleasure to his groin. 

“That was hard to pairing”, explains Melkor pouring the wine in a new glass to share, “a wonderfully delicate dish with rich, not so unctuous and complex flavours must be matched with wines of equal distinction” 

“I’m not a lover of pink wines”, Melkor goes on, “but this dish needs it as we need one spirit with a bit more stuffing and body than a simply old sparkling wine”. 

Mairon sips the wine, perfectly matching with all the sensations he’s feeling. “Why you chose tartare for me?” 

Melkor smirks lightly, all his seductiveness in that little vicious smile, “To me, tartare is an indulgence. Like staying with you, _my love_ ”. 

Mairon stares at him, no one’s ever paid him such a greater compliment. No one’s ever made him feel as desired as Melkor does. 

“Now”, says Melkor standing up from the chair, “the last plate”. 

“This cannot be!”, utters Mairon, staring at him while he serves the dessert, “you don’t like dessert!” 

“That’s for you indeed. But this one may work as a good exception for me”, Melkor comments. 

Melkor managed to combine the sweet and satisfying effect of the dessert into something not so sweet. So his choice has fallen on a hot ice-cream made with a particular fruit from the southern part of the land combined with white chocolate. 

The mousse delightfully melts on Mairon’s tongue, hot and rich but the real surprise comes as the small drops of peppermint crack under the teeth’s pressure; tingling is the fragrance, tingling is the effect, turning on the same receptor on the tongue that cold temperature triggers, giving Mairon more quivers. Interestingly, although it acts at the same receptor, it does its effect at different sites, reaching the inner nerves of his cock, providing a more intense response from his body. 

“Mmm”, Mairon comments the whole meal: affection, intimacy and desire, that’s what Melkor brought in the servings, building a pleasurable game with different consistencies and contrasts. 

“You really feel all this when we are together?” 

“Yes” 

“Ok”, Mairon says, “then prove it! I want that pleasure, your pleasure, on my skin now” 

Melkor reaches his hand on the table, “I would like to propose you something to close our dinner”, intertwining their fingers together sweetly, “It would be like the journey we did together with food but in the opposite way: from your cock to your nipples”. 

Mairon frowns his head, he’s not sure which point Melkor wants to reach. 

“Have you ever been spanked, Mairon?” 

Mairon just stares, no response back.  
Was that kind of question inconceivable from a man like him? No, not really. Yet, he didn’t think about it. 

“With your sensitive skin you would love it, even more than me”, Melkor goes on. 

Mairon bites lightly the bottom lip, the image of his big, hot and possessive hands on his buttocks makes Mairon yearning for it immediately. 

“Pure erotic pleasure, I grant it”, and Melkor asks eventually, “May I spank you?” 

Mairon doesn’t know if it’s the food effect or their hands gathered together, but he whispers “Yes”, trembling at the idea of experiencing new physical sensation with _him_ , maybe arousing, maybe not, but for sure totalising thanks to Melkor and the passion they feel for each other. 

Melkor hoists Mairon up and carries him to the bed room. “You will like it”, Melkor says climbing the stair, while the younger man’s lips are traveling on his neck, side to side, “It’s like a massage, but inside your skin”. Mairon licks Melkor’s throat with the tip of the tongue, from the base of his neck, over his Adams apple insisting a while, and again up to his chin; really he feels thrilled as he doesn’t know what expect from the experience: exactly as it happened with the food. 

And Melkor sits on the edge of the bed, Mairon still in his arms, kissing his lips greedily before releasing him.  
“Take your clothes off”, orders Melkor, playing a different game with him, this time.  
Mairon slowly undresses, giving him his back when it’s time to remove his trousers, spreading lightly his legs and bending lightly over to give him a perfect vision of his bottom; then he stands in front of him, sure of the effect he has on Melkor. 

Tantalising is Mairon, whatever he does. Melkor reaches out and cups his buttocks with both the hands, caressing them vigorously and looking up at him.  
“Beautiful you are”, Melkor says, admiring Mairon’s cheek lightly flushed, nice sensation to see him blushing again while he smiles sweetly. 

“I’m going to devour you”, as his lips wraps softly the base of Mairon’s cock: the younger man moans and arches his back feeling the full lips kisses around him.  
But Melkor pulls Mairon closer and guides him across his lap. His cock is very hard, so Melkor places it between his legs. And now Mairon is lying across his lap, cock firmly hold by his thighs. 

Melkor looks down at his smooth, young ass lightly sprinkled with freckles: “Perfect”, he says, totally enraptured by his body’s form. Then he starts caressing the length of the back of his legs before focusing with soft strokes for each buttocks. 

The heat and the movements of Melkor’s hand make Mairon feeling wonderfully adored. And with his fingertips running down the crack of the ass, Mairon begins to shiver with each action: he is getting very excited by his touches and the expectation. 

Melkor raises his hand and strikes down firmly: he hits on the softer part of his flesh, in the middle of the right cheek. Mairon arched his back and gasps in surprise, feeling a pleasant warmth on his skin; his buttock vibrating under the touch, activating all the nerves near the spot the architect hit.  
Melkor gives him one, two, three more hits with no break and Mairon grabs at the pillow under him. But there’s no pain in it, only powerful and hot vibrations on his skin. 

They are both becoming very excited, Melkor’s cock at full hard trapped in the trousers, Mairon’s even more harder. More ten hits on the same spot, and Mairon cries out loudly, feeling the effect of his vibrating cheek on his balls. Mairon squeaks and exposes his ass a bit more, lifting it and turning his face to watch at him, high the desire of seeing his eyes, to understand what Melkor’s feeling at the same time. 

And the man sweetly caresses the beaten skin, soothing the zone carefully with the cold of his hand: everything for Mairon’s pleasure, for their pleasure.  
His body’s answer is what he expected so he tries a bit more, sure of an even more greater reaction: “I am now going to get a little rough but just stop me if you don’t like it”. 

Mairon nods silently, watching him with adoring eyes. Impossible, it’s impossible that he won’t enjoy whatever his touch proposes: sweetly attentive, incredibly loving and warmly devoted. 

Melkor places the left hand upon the back of his neck, holding him in place. The younger man smirks: he likes that little thing at that moment, so possessive, so demanding, while the man strokes again each cheek of his ass, focusing more on the untouched one, all those nerve endings start yarning for some more and different attentions. 

And suddenly Melkor firms up the hand and give him a blow. Mairon gasps and quivers: right cheek, left cheek, right, left, right, left. The vibrations this time travel through the buttock, finding inevitably and pleasantly their way to his cock, not through the skin but in the depth of the flesh. Right, left, over and over; right, left, again and again: no break this time. And it’s exactly like Melkor said: deep inside his body, all the impulses hitting the tip of his throbbing cock: it’s like Melkor’s hands are caressing it from the inside. 

Mairon moans desperately, the endorphin rushes completely running into his blood, his nipples electrified by the stimulation, fighting the urge to tug at them between the fingertips, resisting for some hits, surrendering finally at the need, crying and feeling the approach of the orgasm: one hit, one squeeze.  
Melkor stops just in time, both so excited, both groaning, admiring his ass in a bright red colour, covered with palm prints, before soothing again, pampering the skin, running lightly the fingers over the marks, moulding carefully the cheeks. 

“Do you like it?” 

“It’s amazing”, Mairon whispers, breathing heavy and shivering faintly, “your touch is amazing and I feel the echo of it inside every cell of my being” 

“You are desirable: so sexy, naughty, perfect”, Melkor bends over him to kiss him sweetly, letting Mairon feel adored, “One day you will spank me hard: it will be perfect and you will love it too”. 

Melkor continues for less than two minutes with those hits, keeping the same steady rhythm, focusing on the lower part of the bottom close to the legs, more erotically sensitive; and Mairon comes with Melkor’s hand still buried at the base of his nape, his cock untouched, only with the sensation of Melkor’s blows and his own fingers teasing the nipples.  
And for Melkor, watching Mairon’ s body cracked by the orgasm’s waves while he’s lying face down across his knees, it’s an incredible sensation. 

Melkor’s hands are still on him, his palm strokes the bare skin, shaping the firm, rounded cheek of his buttocks; and Mairon stays very still, enjoying his strong hands caressing him so comfortably and ardently.  
It takes some minutes before Mairon joins again his intellect; the heart starts to beat with the normal rate as the breath naturally regulates itself. 

“I want you cock in my mouth”, Mairon moans sensually after a while, turning his face, his head still lying on the pillow. Melkor would fuck his blushed ass’s cheeks instead, but he can’t resist to his wet mouth. Mairon’s eyes are calm, aroused and seductive, “Your cock in my mouth”, he repeats, tasting that sound on his lips. 

Feeling the body shaking lightly by the heat on his ass’s cheeks, Mairon drops to his knees, in the middle of Melkor’s legs, who’s still sitting on the edge of the bed. The fingers quickly works to set his body free from the jeans and the underpants, hearing the soft moan from Melkor’s lips when his huge and hard cock is immersed in the cold air.  
“Mmm,” is the only word out Mairon’s mouth before he fills it with his cock, the hot lips surround his throbbing cock. He softly takes the shaft and begins to suck. 

Even if Melkor enjoys long and firm strokes, he loves when the younger man entertains him with his sublime calm.  
Mairon plays with the ridge of his penis, so amazingly sensitive to touch; he places the lips around it like a vice; with relish he applies firm pressure, squeezing lightly and, at the same time, sucking on it for some seconds before releasing the velvety grasp: the tension perks all the nerves up there and then Mairon lets them relaxing. It feels wonderful, perceiving the passion Mairon is adding, trying to pass him with his tongue every sensation he felt, every single drop of ecstasy that shook his mind. He repeats the movement tirelessly, adoring his moans mixed with impatience, Melkor’s hand fisted in his hair, gently in the beginning, tightly after ten unbearably tasty stimulations. 

Then Mairon licks the whole shaft and the balls in an accurate way and Melkor stares at the saliva mixed with precome, a thick stream of it running down over the balls: his mouth stretched so sinfully around him. He is filthy good at his task and there are few thing on this world that Melkor enjoys more than observing him sucking his cock enthusiastically. 

Mairon’s tongue swirls around him. Melkor feels it and he hear him when he moans with his lips before giving the shaft some firm strokes with the hand, exactly in the way Melkor likes them, before letting it go, so in a flash his hands are on the balls, stroking and fondling them. Mairon looks up, his eyes half closed in adoration, in satisfaction, in hunger. He moans again while the mouth continues to work over the cock. 

Melkor feels weak at the knees when the younger man increase the intensity and sucks him in, giving him pressure on the sensitive head of the cock with each long and firm pull of his mouth. He explodes in the exact moment in which Mairon tenses around him, sucking him deep into the back of his throat: with the hot cum flowing into him, Melkor can’t get enough of coming in his throat. 

Mairon swallows every last drop, gulping down the cum and keeping pumping inside the hole, sucking the cock dry. And Melkor collapses onto the bed, spent and sweaty and panting and groaning, still solidly grabbing at his coppery hair. 

Mairon is savouring his taste in the mouth when he climbs the bed and curls up near him, feeling the man’s arms that embrace him, covering his naked body with his, protecting him with his heat, kissing the top of his head with infinite love, inhaling his silky skin’ scent.  
The blackness engulfs them for some minutes. 

Enjoy some time in silence, enjoy the quiet and only speak when they have something to say has become a wonderful aspect of their afterglow.  For the both of them - and especially to Mairon - there is something incredibly loving about being with each other, enjoying each other’s presence, and not saying a single word, communicating only with the unspoken. 

Melkor doesn’t like to break their moment but he doesn’t want that Mairon falls asleep, not now, not before everything is done. He feels thrilled. He feels he can’t wait any longer. 

“Mairon”, whispers Melkor faintly. 

He doesn’t know how could be a good moment for that question. He doesn’t know because he has never asked anything like it. Perhaps starting from a far point, then moving slowly to the aim, exploring his feeling, probing his answers, without embarrassing him and himself. But Melkor’s a vehement man, he doesn’t feel any kind of shame. And Mairon, Mairon is his love. 

“Mairon”, he whispers sweetly into his ear, again. 

Mairon lifts the face, buried in his scent, against his strong clothed chest, opening the eyes and staring at him with attention. 

“Not for the week-end, but now and forever: move in here with me”. 

A tiny gasp starts Mairon’s chest; a cloud darkens his pale face while he observes him with the mouth slightly open for some seconds, before standing up and climbing down the bed. He reaches his clothes and puts his t-shirt and underpants on, then he walks towards the elegant wardrobe behind the bed: he grabs at one of Melkor’s hair bands, moved into a little drawer to save them from Tevildo’s  exploring teeth and claws. He gathers his hair in a soft side braid, as he does when he’s at home in relaxing moments. 

Melkor stares at the event in silence. Many thoughts cross his mind: he did it wrong. He failed the moment. He chose the wrong words. He offended him? He’s biting the bottom lip with harshness when all those worries turn into anger: he doesn’t like those kind of thoughts - not at all - as he has never thought to be wrong before that moment. How much power and influence has Mairon in his life, to make him feel that way? He cannot accepted it. He can’t.  
And still, he’s worried. 

Then Mairon reaches again the bed and sits in the middle of it, with his legs crossed and a serious expression painted on his face.

“I have to be smart, Melkor”, Mairon eventually speaks, “and protect myself” 

“From what?”, Melkor snarls at him, not hiding anymore all the resentment growing in the stomach for the treatment that Mairon is serving to him. He’s half naked and psychologically bare on his bed, openly facing that young man with all his feelings under the spot and offered to him: to him, who made his life a better place to live. 

Mairon breaths out loudly, closing his eyes, bending his head forward and placing his cold hand on his forehead, just for a second before facing him again. 

“I move here. We are happy for six months, nine months, even one full year starting from now”, Mairon starts, “then you get bored of me, as you could get bored of your expensive accessories; and so you kick me and my cat out from _your home_ , _our love_ and _my work_ ”, stressing every single state. 

“What the fu-“ 

“ **Don’t you dare interrupt me** ”, Mairon points his finger against him, his voice sounds harsh and his eyes sparkle with a calm fit of anger.  
Melkor has never seen him in that state, thing that makes him even more angry. 

“So”, Mairon breaths out, again with his quite tone, “I will be alone, without a work that I truly love, without a _spiritual home_ , and… _broken_ in hundred millions pieces. Maybe with a lot of money if I play well my cards with you, but _broken_ and no heaven nor hell will change that thing”. 

Melkor listens and ponders patiently his words: all the love washing away the anger he felt. Mairon is worried, even more than him, and he’s exposed, even more than him, because he potentially would lose everything with him, for him. 

“I love you, Melkor, but I feel scared”, he ends, “your turn now”.  
Mairon’s way of discussing. 

“In any case you would not be the only one suffering” 

“Yes, but I suppose you would get over it very quickly and you would not let it drag you down! And, at the end of our story, your narcissism will question _my feelings_ and you will end up telling yourself that, _I did not loved you so much_ after all”. Then Mairon whispers with sadness: “Or _not enough_ ” 

“I thought I was clear last week when I said _eternally_ , or you think I speak easily about feelings?” 

“You can’t promise me the eternity, no one can” 

“No, that’s true, no one can, in fact I’m not promising you the eternity but _my love_ and I can’t change it and I don’t want to change it and-”, Melkor bends over to pull him at him, hugging him in the arms, hating the distance between them, a distance that’s just unfair for the importance of the moment, “the only thing that will have influence on it will be our own love. So, if you want to keep it, just _l_ _ove me_ ”. 

With the index Mairon trails the profile of his nose, with a soft touch, admiring him, so beautiful and so in love with him. Then his fingers travels to reach his high cheekbone, all the tenderness he feels in his touch, smiling sweetly at his words: an intoxicating music that cherishes his body and soul.  
He has never seen Melkor so serious outside his work and his heart beats quickly when Melkor bends over to kiss him, two soft and little pecks on his eyelids. 

“Why you want me to live with you?”, asks Mairon, trying to not do the same error made in the past, “You’ve lived alone the most of your life…why me and why now?” 

“I can’t stand the thought of another day without you in my life. Look, we have so many things to do together and I don’t like to waste time - you know it - and I think that”, Melkor pauses a while, breathing deeply, “if you don’t want to live with me now, you won’t even in the future: we just need to be honest with each other”, he kisses the tip of his nose, “So stay here forever or go away from my life forever: no halfway with me”. 

“What about my job if I say no?” 

It cannot be. This cannot be.  
Yet, he should’ve thought of that before. 

“Your labour contract says one year, as I recall”, whispers Melkor with his normal, a bit formal tone, trying to hide the heavy sadness that suddenly filled his spirit hearing those words, “After you will be free to stay or change studio. I will give you the best references as you are worthy of them, then it will be easy for you to find another top-job” 

“No one has ever loved my freedom as you do”, and Mairon assaults him, slipping his lips against Melkor’s once before opening his mouth with the tongue. At the same time he works to unbuttons Melkor’s dark shirt, caressing then his chest, trailing his muscles’ form with his explorative, long and sensual fingers, running them up and down with endless desire. God, how much he loves his strong chest. Mairon moans and pulls his body tightly against him, before sucking on his lower lip. And, at the same time, Melkor sucks on his upper lip. 

Mairon releases his full lip with a low noise and smiles, his tiny smile on his face: “I will stay forever in our love if our love is as it’s now, forever”. 

“Or even better”, Melkor kisses him with his fierce passion, wrapping his arms around him in an even more tighter embrace, gently pulling Mairon towards him. One of his hand quickly undoes his braid, running his fingers into his coppery waves, then playing with his soft hair; the other hand, caressing his clothed back, feels at some point the soft skin of his bare legs. The younger man smiles at him under the kiss, knowing how much he adores to coddle his hair. But Melkor breaks the kiss, keeping him into his arms: “And now, Mairon Gorthaur, you’re mine”. 

Mairon laughs softly. “You sure it’s not the other way around?”, he whispers, before claiming again his soft and greedy lips. 

 

***Sunday 

Mairon is not so talkative and he dislike chat for chatting, and yet he tried to engage him in a conversation; but Melkor didn’t want to speak as well as he had no desire to listen to him. Thing that, honestly, comforted Mairon for there was no necessity between them to distort the truth of the moment with empty words, finding also in that the beauty of their relationship. 

Then Mairon turned the car’s music player on, hoping to lighten his mind with something more impalpable but Melkor switched it off: he didn’t feel like the music he loves at that very moment. 

Not even the rainy day helped Melkor in relaxing: usually he loves to drive under the rain or, even better, during thunderstorms. 

As well as he didn’t want to enjoy the changing in the land around them, as the flat plain turned at first into a soft hill country, and then into a mountainous region. 

In truth, Mairon has never seen him look so calmly pissed off. For that reason he gave up, focusing only on Tevildo, trying to made the trip as comfortable as possible at least for his beloved cat.  
The first part of the car’s journey was quite easy, allowing him to sniff all the parts he could reach, Mairon’s arms permitting. But it didn’t take so long before he started to wiggle out of his solid grab and bite and claw him. 

And now Mairon sighs, keeping hardly his calm nature with a restive Tevildo.  
“Miuuw”, he complains in a sad way. 

“Oh”, says Mairon with pity, “you’re right little one, I know, you’re right”, changing position to him. 

“At least you could buy a leash”, suddenly Melkor speaks, “I think he would be glad with a leash”. 

Mairon looks at him in amazement: quite frankly, Mairon hadn’t thought about it until just now. “You’re right! Perhaps a leash could be a good middle ground”, he says, “I’m going to buy one and try it on you before on him” 

“I would be glad” 

“We have a deal so…Aah”, commenting Tevildo’s nails in his chest, “How long it takes to get there?” 

“15 minutes” 

Mairon breathes a sigh of relief. “Am I coming with you or I’m staying in the car?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous”, Melkor snarls, “of course you come with me” 

“You know, with you nothing is certain” 

But Melkor is not in the mood for jokes. “Once there, let him do what he wants” 

Mairon glances at him discretely, looking and smiling at his man unnoticed: Melkor’s interest for Tevildo’s well-being is touching. 

“You can be sure of that, I’m not going to force him anymore. Has your father a cat?” 

“Probably more than one” 

“Oh”, says Mairon, “I don’t know how he could react” 

“Let him do what he wants” 

“Said the cat behaviourist”, Mairon adds with sarcasm, “But today, Mr. Bauglir, I’m your guest so, whatever happens inside that rich domain, you will pay back for it, if compensation is required”, says Mairon with a professional tone in his voice, getting out of the car. 

Melkor shows the way and Mairon follows him on his side; he grabs at Mairon’s left hand, keeping that tense silence in which he’s immersed since they woke up that morning; he intertwines their fingers, sweetly but firmly, transmitting with his body the tension he’s perceiving. And Mairon answers back, replying with the same firm but comforting strength.  
They walk along the path that brings to the estate, passing through the calm wood in which the house is deep in. With a suddenly calm and hypnotized Tevildo, Mairon admires the nature around the house: it’s like in the pictures he saw when he was young, the kind of idealised view of nature that could draw inspiration for paintings of landscapes.  
Perched high on Pelóri mountains, the ancient house is surrounded by dense forests and peaks. The moist smell of resin, wood and musk is restorative for the mind: Mairon would spend one entire month in that desolated place, only sleeping, reading, and walking with Tevildo in his arms. 

All that perfect harmony is deeply in contrast to what Melkor is feeling: a strange and detestable sense of inadequacy hits his stomach making him a bit nervous as they steps inside.  
So Mairon admires the ancient house, totally made of stone and mahogany in the exterior as well as the interior, sophisticated in the way it coheres to the sloping hillside, frames important vistas and offsets the desire for a connection to nature. It’s outrageously full of windows that bring a great amount of light into the clean spaces made of natural materials.  
The heart of the house is a double-height living room on the lower level, where a curtain wall windows afford the stunning expansive view to landscape.  
But the beauty of the kitchen with the dining room strikes Mairon intensely, where a retractable window in the corner banquet gives breathtaking views on the Mountains and really allows the outdoors to be the focal point of the house.  
  
“Brother! Here you are!”, Manwë’s voice distracts Mairon from his thoughts, “I was waiting for you restlessly!”, while he hugs his beloved brother.  
Then Manwë sees Mairon; he walks towards him with a surprised but kind smile, saying nothing, understanding silently; he married his secretary, after all: it’s so easy to fall in love with the people with whom we spend the most of the day together.  
Manwë gives him his hand. 

“Mr. Súlimo”, Mairon replies shaking the hands, keeping his professional profile. 

“Call me Manwë, please”, he says with a real emotion in his dark blue eyes, “don’t you mind it if I call you Mairon?” 

“Oh please, Manwë” 

“Now it’s like…we are brothers too!”, then Manwë hugs him with the same tenderness he sets aside for his brother, just minding the cat in his arms, “you have a kitten! Adorable!” 

“He’s Tevildo”, says Mairon, putting the little cat on the floor, letting him explore the world around him. 

“Our father will be happy to have another cat in family!”, smiles Manwë. 

“Where is he?”, asks Melkor, from the deep of his voice, unwilling of futile pleasantries. 

“Are you sleeping here tonight?”, asks Manwë, “I give order to set  a room for you” 

“Not necessary”, he replies. 

“Are you not staying here tonight? Tomorrow it’s a public day, we could spend two days all together”, Manwë speaks to Mairon, “Such a long car trip…at least you could sleep here or just eat with us before leaving”. 

“Where-is-he?”, insists Melkor. 

“Behind you, as always”, a voice from their back makes all of them to turn their heads. 

There is too much of his father in his first son. Tall, taller than Melkor even if only slightly; beautiful, with his mesmerising eyes in a deep ocean blue colour with flecks of silver light. The softly pointed beard and his dark smokey-grey hair, not long not short, twirled in a sort of quick low knot give him a fake sloppy but surely enticing look. His lips are pale, thin and severe. His nose slender and rounded. A prominent jaw curves gracefully around and the strength of his neck shows the cords of muscle that possibly shapes his entire toned body. 

“You wanted to see me?”, Melkor says with his glacial tone. 

“Not even a hug to your father?”, the voice is not deep as Melkor’s, but more gentle and with the elegance of many years of living. 

Melkor hesitates but cannot deny a simple hug to his father, he can’t. So he walks towards him, hugging him for some long, interminable seconds.  
Manwë almost cries. 

“That’s my boy”, his father says, with his sweet voice. 

Their father, Eru Ilúvatar, started his career as a viol player; hailed as ‘the god of music’ in the press since he was very young, he became the National Orchestra’s youngest-ever principal conductor just five years later his first concert as violin soloist.  
He has been one of the major figures in the field of music since more than forty years, developing his talent also as composer: his characteristic and limitless repertoire mostly features medieval and classical music, although he has faced  the renaissance and even the modern periods. So deep is his influence that he largely popularized the viol-family instruments in contemporary performance and recording.  
Despite his enormous fame he didn’t let all that go to his head, even if he has always been proud of being flushed by the journalists for his flawless lifestyle, thing that added inside him a sort of light obsession, or, rather, a deep certainty about the meaning of ‘ _the Truth_ ’; he has lived an exemplary life, acting as if the maxims of his action has to become through his will a universal law of nature, entirely absorbed in his work and family with devotion and rigidity, under the idea of a good will intrinsically good, so that free.  
That way he raised his children, with the strong conception that ‘being’ a duty implies ‘freedom’. And for that reason he researched the greatness for his beloved sons: one expression of intransigent, inflexible and uncompromising love. 

“Oh, you look good”, he says, caressing his son’s face, “always beautiful” 

“Please”, Melkor says, “meet my partner, Mairon” 

“I’ve heard you speaking about a cat”, the man gives him his hand, “welcome to our family, Mairon, I’m Eru”. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir”, Mairon shaken it, “and that one is Tevildo” 

Eru walks some steps to take the cat in his arms. Strangely Tevildo reacts in a good way.  
“Little beauty!”, Eru’s expert hands find quickly the way to cuddle the black cat in the most pleasant way; surprisingly Tevildo starts with many purrs of satisfaction. 

“I’m a cat enthusiast”, the man explain, “at the moment I have three of them somewhere around here. They’re a bit shy, not used to people but for sure you will have the pleasure to meet them” 

“But please, Mairon, sit down and make yourself comfortable”, Eru goes on cuddling Tevildo, “did you eat something?”, he asks watching his first son. 

A father who seems to dominate the world and handle everything with his warm smile. It’s hard to believe that that attentive, caring, seductive, impeccable and smiling man is the monster who raised those two brothers. 

“You said you need to talk with me”, insists Melkor. 

“He gets so impatient if he has to wait, doesn’t he?”, asks Eru with polite irony to Mairon. The younger man smiles lightly but coldly as reply. 

“It’s not easy to settle a good relationship with cats: it need time and patience”, Eru speaks, talking with Mairon, apparently, “but in the exact moment in which they recognise you, it’s done forever and they will love you in the measure you love them: a fair exchange” 

“I would say that’s a matter of love”, Mairon reacts immediately, not hiding who he is before him, by any means subjugate by his presence, “in my experience, I’ve learnt that cats give back the same love we give them. So, it’s all about love, what kind of love we are willing to donate them”. 

Eru stares at him for some seconds, studying his hazel eyes framed with those long eyelashes. Mairon’s remark is placid but conflicting and saucy, for that he whispers: “There’s only one way to love”. 

“He’s beautiful”, Eru repeats after a while, giving the cat back to Mairon, “even though he has no pedigree. A handsome cat next door?”. 

And with that, a glacial silence falls upon them.  
Mairon answers not the provocation: probably  the comment is a shot at him, not at Tevildo, but he couldn’t care less about personal insults; he embraces his cat, enveloping him with all his heat instead, and he smirks knowing that he really did get to the core of Eru. 

Melkor feels a sense of revulsion fuelling more anger blended with bitterness rising within him; he stares at Mairon for a couple of second: the younger man’s proud eyes sparkle even more proudly; he tries to play it cool for him, fighting the urge to start a pandemonium in the house: not now, not so soon, not so easily, not before saying what he wants to say.  
In such way he’s glad how his father showed himself with that stupid little strict saying but nothing could hide how much embittered he feels, imaging the peeve into his man at that very moment.  
And now Mairon’s guilt is there for all to see: no one dares to argue with him against anything - the golden rule of that house. 

“So?”, Melkor presses, impatient to do what is in his mind and leave that despicable place. 

“We can speak in the family room”, suggests Manwë, staring at their father. 

“Great”, Melkor murmurs as he walks towards the staircase. 

“Mairon, please, help yourself: the bar is in the corner next to fire place”, Manwë points the corner of the room, “are you hungry? In the kitchen there’s  everything you could need. I don’t know where is my wife”, Manwë adds, “she said she was going to have a walk but I think she’s coming back at any moment. I’m sorry to leave you here alone-” 

“No worries”, Mairon hurries on to say, Melkor already stepping in the second floor, followed by their father and Manwë following them. 

The elegant pitcher placed in the middle of the kitchen table has many mint infused ice cubes floating in it: Mairon gets a glass and drinks, enjoying the very light mint taste inside the mouth. Also he reaches the coffee brewer and pours a cup of strong coffee taking two tiny home-made cookies, then he sits on the wing chair near the windows, checking Tevildo who’s sniffing every centimetre of the huge carpet in the middle of the room.  
The house is in full silence; there’s no real division from the lower level of the living room and the upstairs as a glass and bronze balustrade connects the staircase with the family room. All the voices resounds clearly from the second floor, giving any privacy to the talkers at all. 

“Brandy, dad?”, Manwë asks, from the second level. 

“Thank you”, with calm and composed voice, “but only one finger” 

“I’m not even going to ask you!”, Manwë jokes, “I can see the answer!” 

“Half glass, neat”, replies drily Melkor. 

“Did you eat something today, brother?” 

Mairon takes a sip from his coffee. Suddenly the clouds part and a ray of light penetrates the gloom of the day; the glorious beam bursting through the clouds marks a fresh start, flooding the living room in the exact point in which Mairon sits: the light slides between his fingers like an innocent play, warming up what it touches, cooling down what is outside its grace, only for an instant before the dimness of an incoming storm falls again in the room; but it’s enough for Mairon to find Melkor’s obsession for the light: there in the living room of that old and charming house. All the brightness of Melkor’s childhood in that place: a cold, fragile and untrue light that hits the viewer with its disarming pureness. He can image a child with dark hair sitting in the exact point in which Tevildo is clawing the carpet, surrounded by that light, feeling lost and torn: easy, so easy is the light to love, with its disquieting promise of happiness, with its blinding compassion, with its deceptive harmony. And when the light betrays you revealing the inconsistency of what it’s made of, the darkness of heart is the only answer. 

*

 

“I’m here”, Melkor states, “how can I help you?”, with a sarcastic tone in his voice. 

“Help me?”, his father answers back a bit detached, “I was hoping to have a normal conversation with you but it seems that four years didn’t do you any good” 

“How good you are in switching the events from your point of view, inverting the poles to better overthrow the blame: you’ve always been good at it”, says Melkor with altered voice, “just so you remember it, it’s me who went away from you not the contrary” 

“Please, please”, Manwë tries to calm down the tones: they just started speaking and things are already going out of hand, “Melkor, please, let him speak” 

“Your brother is unreasonable as usual”, Eru comments, taking a little sip from his glass, his eyes locked on his first son. 

“Let’s play your game. I’m listening”, Melkor crosses his legs, “why I’m here?” 

“The fact is this”, Eru starts, condescendingly and with a light, satisfied smirk on the lips, “you are here because I wanted you to be here today”. 

Melkor’s mouth goes dry as a nauseating sense is felt on his tongue.  
There was a time, when he was young, when he had to understand by himself the errors he made by way of hours and hours of punitive and wintry silence, to understand, at the end, that _that_ was only one way to live, his father’s way of living: only one and probably not the most fitting to him. Then a big sadness filled his being as it’s filling it now, a desolation that burns the images of his childhood; he breathes heavily, taking into his lungs the frost itself of the truth: illusion, it’s only an illusion. 

“I’m here because you can’t stand to be ignored by me” 

“You’re here to obey me, my son, because this is what you are: my son. I called you and you came running”. 

Why and how his father could still have a so deep leverage over him? How his father manages to humiliate him in a so utterly impressive way every single time?  
No, not this time. 

“I’m here to contradict you the way no one has ever contradicted you” 

“You’ve always been a difficult and exhausting son”, breaths out Eru, “so hard to manage with you, a constant work around the clock” 

“I’ll take it as a compliment” 

“It’s not a compliment to be considered negative, impossible, quarrelsome and with an aggressive temper: the typical person that people avoids, mad at everyone’s eyes” 

“Mad, you say? For sure you made me this way: you made me the person I am” 

“What have I always told you, Melkor? Ultimately you’ve got on bad with your life” 

“I know you can’t understand it but I feel perfectly satisfied with my life” 

“Ah, really?”, Eru says with sarcasm, “I suppose it was one of your outcome in life to not have any kind of connection with your family for four years. Don’t lie to yourself, you’re too old for it” 

“Well, you know, from my point of view the best time of my life. Why don’t you take some time to reconsider?” 

“I thought you were ready to be forgiven with the consequence that I thought I was ready to bequeath you by my will”, Eru says. 

“Blackmail, always blackmail with you: since we were young”, says Melkor with a disgusted expression, “do this and you will be loved. Do that and you will be free. Follow my lesson and you will be happy. How I will be free if I have to walk every step you say?” 

“You still believe that life or freedom is yours and yours only? How far you are from the truth, my son, and I greatly regret this”, his eyes filled with a sincere sadness, “Freedom is a gift, it doesn’t exist in itself: it’s bounded in the beginning and in the end” 

“So it’s not freedom”, infers Melkor, “Freedom is absolute or it’s not freedom at all: something that happens in our mind and not somewhere else, as well as there’s nothing behind the doing – the act, _my act_ , is everything” 

“It’s contingency, springing and aiming at something. It’s an answer, a total and complete answer. The flaw is in your thought and you’re far beyond absolution” 

“First of all, I’ve done nothing that has to be forgiven. Second, I don’t give a fucking fuck about your money: I have plenty of them” 

“Melkor, please”, Manwë’s hand grabs his right arm, “mind your language and calm down!” 

“I’m perfectly calm, brother” 

“And also you, dad, please, lower your tone. The fact is that you two have the same temperament so you don’t understand each other” 

“No, I can’t let you say that!”, Eru’s voice turns a bit harsh with anger, “I’m not insane, a madman like him!” 

“Father, with all my love, but I have to say this”, Manwë stands on Melkor’s side, “I think you’ve never listened to him truly” 

“At last”, says Melkor, “thank you, _brother_ ” 

“Well, how did we get here?”, utters Eru in surprise, “you brainwashed him, at the end Melkor?” 

Oh, that sweet smirk on Melkor’s lips.  
“See?”, speaking to Manwë, “you don’t care how he treats you?” 

Manwë normally would lower his gaze. But this time he glances at his father with irritation. 

“Perhaps he understood _by himself_ that for you something may be universally good or universally bad, because there are no personal choices except for yours” 

“Don’t be ridiculous!”, Eru’s voice sounds now upset even if calm and composed, “You talk too easily about choices: you care about nothing. Neither your family, nor really yourself as you showed with your life in fact” 

“All you can do is turn up your nose but nothing you say will convince me different: in our life there is a large component of choice and it’s completely up to ours. But you approve only what reflects your image or what glorifies you” 

“Do not dare...challenge my decisions” 

“I’m not challenging your decision: I’d be a hypocrite if I did it! I’m questioning your authoritarianism, it’s different!” 

“You want this family to be destroyed, with you brazen and shameless behaviour, isn’t it? And only for the sake of seeing me suffer! My guilt in your eyes is that I did my natural work: a man has to provide, take care of his family” 

“My saying is more deeper, father. The point I’m trying to make is that”, Melkor speaks out resolutely, “ _a family like ours is not a family_ ”. 

The satisfied grin on Melkor’s face shows the thrill he’s feeling along his spine: it’s amazing how pleasure is so strictly linked to sadism when it comes to his family. With only one shot he’s getting back at him for what he said to Mairon and questioning  his entire reason for being; but not only. In truth, those words came out of his mouth automatically. Melkor has never thought or pondered about the idea of family, neither he’s asked himself what makes a family real. Yet, it was only some hours before that he _experienced_ it with Mairon in his arms. 

Mairon, from the lower level, would’ve wanted to join him, be at his side and watch the two astonished faces glaring baffled at Melkor.  
Indeed Eru – and Manwë with him – is so shocked that he can’t find any significant word to rebuke properly his first son. 

“Appearances, just a simple matter of appearances. How it disturbs you! And I love this innocent little thing that haunts your fucking nights! It’s like music to me!”, Melkor goes on defiantly, “the perfect man, the perfect father. I think that you like to be the man that everybody thinks does everything right. But it turned out that you are not so perfect and here _we_ \- and I mean all of us”, staring also at Manwë, “we perfectly know that you made mistakes with us. And now everybody knows that the perfect family is not so perfect and even a ‘god’ may fail” 

“And now everybody knows that you got insane, my poor son” 

“Oh, father”, Melkor remarks provokingly, “now you have two ideal sons. Manwë: the perfect accordance with your thought” 

“Please don’t put me in the middle of this!”, protests Manwë. 

“Shut up! You are the worst”, Melkor says glancing a dark look at Manwë before going on brutally, “And then there’s me: I’ve become your scapegoat. That’s a perfect mask for you and for your actions. But I don’t care because I live my life openly, without fearing any judgment as the path I chose is only mine” 

“Sooner or later, you’re going to get bored of this pointless whim: I know you’re in this for a kind of vengeance against me and vengeance always destroys the avenger” 

“A whim you say?”, Melkor comments upset, “you think you’re still talking with your five years old son? That is the world we live in and _you made it_ ” 

“There are so many things you can’t understand. The meaning of having two sons to raise, to educate, to make sacrifices for them…for you” 

“That was not a contract! And what about love?” 

“ _You_ , son”, his father speaks up from his seat by the window, “ _You_ talk about love? With your presumption and egomania? Don’t you dare to talk _to me_ about love! I love you - you know it - and you should no doubt it”, Eru answers, “You have fallen in every way imaginable” 

“You love us in function of you and we must be adequate to your thought: there must be correspondence of our lives and your reality…and only then there will be love. But you cannot punish your son because he has his own thoughts” 

“You can deny and reject  _the truth_ , thinking that your will at the end will prevail but _the truth_ is that you follows my steps even when you think you’re walking on the opposite side” 

“It’s kind of hard to talk your own way out of that one with you, without lowering the head for every little thing…but I do not bend”, Melkor says proudly , “This is what make you suffer most of all, isn’t it? The idea that you raised me to satisfy your will, to obey you and…at the end? You discovered that a son has his own will: he contests your authority and rejects it because children are also intended to disappoint the parents” 

“Then you reached your aim as that’s what you are: an ungrateful failure”, says Eru accusatorily. 

Melkor leaps to his feet, glaring at him with pity and sadness, not willing of getting more humiliation from a man who won’t listen or talk or call into question himself, “The worst humiliating thing is that you took the love away from your sons, the only right a son could ever have”. 

“Where are you going?”, says Eru disdainfully, “you run, coward, for the second time you run before me” 

“No, brother”, Manwë grabs at his right hand, as he passes by him. 

“It’s you who are not ready to talk with me, father”, Melkor stops in front of him, towering him with his presence, “as far as you don’t take on yourself your responsibility, _not as a man for his duty but as a father for his half love_ ”. 

“I’m leaving, brother”, speaking to Manwë, as he tightens his brother’s hand in his, “and I won’t come back”. 

Eru sighs but lets him leave, exactly like he did in the past. He’s sure about that someday his son will understand and come back home. Once and for all. 

Melkor’s quick steps along the stair echo in the both the levels of the house while he’s reaching the living room, where Mairon is playing with his cat sitting on the carpet. The view of him makes Melkor smile with tenderness: the family he chose for himself. 

“Brother, please, wait and be sensible”, Manwë follows him and begs, “don’t ruin what we have” 

“We have nothing”, says Melkor, looking in the deep of his brother’s eyes, “Some things are broken forever and so they must be”.  
Two victims they are, nothing less and nothing more. “We catch up next week”. 

Manwë silently smiles: although he feels they have now wasted the most of their youth, all is not lost. And with deep feeling he hugs his beloved and arrogant brother. “I call you”, Manwë murmurs at the base of Melkor’s neck. 

Melkor pats him on the shoulder and then, as soon as his brother lets him go, stretches out his hand to Mairon: “We go home”.  
Mairon picks up Tevildo and takes his hand in his; then they walk outside that house, beautiful only in the appearance. 

Hand in hand they quickly walk together, the same silence between them but different in its essence. Proud, satisfied and finally fulfilled, Melkor said freely what’s in the deepest of his soul for the first time in his life: not for arrogance, not for rebellion, not for vengeance. The only terrible awareness and only solution is not the external victory, but the internal one on himself, as long as he shows the courage of his naked will, as long as he is loyal to himself; and the more firmly he _lives_ it, the more certain is the darkness around him. 

Tevildo is steadily cling to Mairon’s shirt, piercing the skin with his claws while they reach the car, quickly with their fast and liberating steps; and Mairon stops him out the blue before he gets in: “You’re marvellous”, whispers on his lips, standing on his tiptoes. 

And Melkor knows he’s not talking about his high cheekbones neither his magnetic eyes nor his full lips. Mairon, the only person who looked inside him and loved him the way he is: with his hidden fragilities, his sudden changing in mood and his anger issues, transforming them, turning all that into passion and deep love. 

After all if he found the right words to tell his father he hasn’t been much of a father but played too much the dictator, it’s only down to Mairon.  And, again, after all his brother was only for half right saying that he’s a lot like their father; however, thanks to Mairon, he’s not: similar and yet dissimilar. 

“Go on your own way,”, Mairon says before taking with both of his lips his lower lip to suck on it gently, "every step resounds with your freedom".

* 

“There’s something I need to confess about Tevildo”, Mairon breaks the silence in the car about twenty minutes after leaving the house - already halfway to the city; “Well, there’s nothing to confess to be honest…it just happened”. 

Melkor casts a quick glance at Mairon, who’s petting lovingly the little cat. “So?” 

 “I couldn’t help it, but he peed on the carpet in the middle of the living room under the coffee table”. 

He glances at him once more: this time Mairon is observing him with a motionless face. 

“I got no time to say it to you or to Manwë…it’s obvious why. I was just thinking about to send a kind of…alert SMS to your brother” 

Melkor bursts out laughing: “I’ve always hated that carpet”, exclaims Melkor with unexpected good mood.  And in that very moment Melkor have the full respect for the cat: “I’m proud of Tevildo!” 

“Because he peed on the carpet in the middle of the living room?” 

“Precisely” 

“I think he understood. Or, at least, perceived the tension”, explains Mairon. 

Melkor’s still laughing. 

“Instead of laughing, pray he doesn’t pee on your bed rug” 

“He didn’t pee in my car so…I think I will arrange a whole rare steak also for him tonight” 

“Oh, little one, have you heard?”  
But Tevildo is sleeping on Mairon’s lap, with his hand still rubbing the fluffy tummy: a day too stressful also for him. 

“Since we are at it, you need something from you apartment?” 

“Oh no, please”, complains Mairon, “we just go home directly: I took with me some dresses so we think about the move not now, but over the next few weeks little by little” 

“As you wish”, says Melkor composed. 

“Moreover”, adds Mairon, “tomorrow it’s a public day so we could plan it day by day making it even more easy and stress-free” 

“Whatever you want”. Melkor’s really in a uniquely good mood. 

“But we are lucky, I don’t have so many things there. And, of course, you’re going to pay the period of notice - that is two months - for the extra hurry you added” 

“Of course”. 

The storm that hit the mountains rapidly moved to the valley. The rumble thundering across the city – together with the lightning on the horizon – is announcing the imminent start of what the threatening cloud layer had promised since dawn; and all this makes Melkor feel even more heavenly good.  
He only hopes to have enough time to reach _their home_ and make love to Mairon on the table they love so much, with that symphony as background and in the dark, with only lightning to light up the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ends the story but...I've planned one extra chapter [or two...or more...I don't know it yet :) ] just to play with ""my"" characters. And I suppose that...we all love family reunions *_*  
> Thank you ❤️

*** Monday, the seventh week, around 3 a.m. 

 

“…he observes, listens to you with a smile  but that’s what he does: he tries to make you feel guilty or crazy. Or easily he humiliates you”. 

Seen from that angle the view is particularly enchanting and Mairon can’t help to tilt his head on the side; but, in truth, the view from any angle shows its perfection: round, firm, muscular yet squeezable, Melkor’s butt sticks out just the necessary to make it juicy and biteable. Mairon smiles and nibbles at that perfection in the softest point of his right buttock. 

And yet Melkor seems not detecting what’s happening around him: “And when someone tells you for the whole of your life – which is incidentally your youth, when you are inexpert and your personality is not completely formed – that you’re impossible and mad, you get deranged at the end”. 

Naked and laying on the bed on his belly, Melkor’s playing with Tevildo, who’s trying to catch his fingers under Mairon’s pillow wiggling and shaking his little butt before every single pounce: so funny and adorable that even him - Melkor ‘blackheart’ Bauglir - can’t help to laugh tenderly. 

“You are not mad”, Mairon says immediately rolling on himself and, using his man as pillow, lies quietly on him with the coppery hair scattered all over Melkor’s back. 

“Indeed I’m not”, adds quickly Melkor, Mairon’s soft hair tickling the bare skin for some seconds. 

“You are…multi-layered and strong-willed, higher than the most”, Mairon adds, giving a look at his pierced nipples, sticking straight out into the black of Melkor’s old t-shirt, “probably you were that way also during your childhood and your father felt scared or feared it. He should have understood and accepted it instead of trying to change it”, then he flicks his fingertips over his own nipples, the short nails slightly abrasive through the tee, making them even more harder in response. 

The residual adrenaline from the fight with his father is giving to Melkor hard time going away; feeling restless, more than the normal, he got not his usual right state of mind to work - thing that bothered him _ad nauseam_ \- so he tried with resting unsuccessfully as he ended up sleeping only for ten minutes at a time and waking up constantly. At some point, Mairon gave up on sleeping too that night: not for Melkor’s excitement but just because Tevildo perceived it with the effect of being awake and lively in their bed. Everything just started with some long meows under Mairon’s pillow, so loud and whiny that he turned his dark-orange/deep-red bed table’s light on, eventually. Then a satisfied Tevildo toddled towards a sleepless Melkor: “It seems that no one of us can sleep well tonight” Melkor said and, with that prelude, he started speaking like a flooded river. 

“I think that when you were child you wanted to be like your father”, Mairon states, “that is desperately you wanted to be yourself before him”. 

Melkor stops for a second his playing with the cat and gives a quick look over his shoulder at the red-haired man: “Thinking about the fact that you’re the younger here…you scare me a lot” 

Mairon giggles proudly: he likes to be praised, especially for his logical inferences and accurate conjectures. Then he turns himself to place another bite on his buttock, this time a bit more roughly. And this time Melkor feels it fully. 

“Obviously it’s easy to say that I’m mad: Manwë does whatever our father says, without question and for sure my father compares him to me” 

“The only thing is that”, Mairon says as calm as aroused, “with you it’s easier to spot out your bad temper” 

“Bad temper?”, Melkor looks at him again, but darkly this time, “I’m not bad tempered!”, he snarls eventually. 

“You are definitely bad tempered”, says Mairon quietly, “but this doesn’t mean that your brother is the good one” 

“He’s the worst”, Melkor growls with the lowest tone of voice he ever made. 

“I agree”, Mairon nods caressing and moulding his buttocks, the perfect combination between steel and silk, “he drifts all the time: the utopian person who wants to be kind and control his action to not hurt anyone. He’s a good man, can’t say the contrary: probably he’s the nicest person on the planet”. 

“Frankly”, snarls upset Melkor, “even too much as he must think highly of everyone, all the same: it’s his duty. People like him are universally considered perfect human kinds but, in my experience, a person like that is a weak person”. 

Mairon is working with his teeth softly, just to leave a light mark on his left ass’ cheek while Melkor goes ahead: “I mean some situations require other ways to manage, especially when there’s a great deal at stake, especially if it’s about _your life_ and _your self-respect_ ”. 

Mairon twitches as he lays, just to get the tee he’s wearing off; Melkor indignantly spouts off not even minding what the younger man’s doing: “They spend their lives labelling things morally with ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ searching for a reason, but without asking the meaning of their categorised mind: they simply do what is much easier or - better to say - what they consider easier for everyone”. 

And suddenly Mairon gets out the bed in the middle of his speech. “Are you listening to me?”, asks Melkor bothered by the lack of interest Mairon’s showing to his words. 

“Yes, Mr. Bauglir”, as he takes the lube bottle from the wardrobe behind the bed on his side before going back to bed. 

Sure to have Mairon’s full attention, he restarts with his speech: “The only aspiration they have is to not make a ripple on the surface! Look at me! I’m a constant seaquake with my decisions”, Melkor states with great force and emphatically as his excitement’s growing and growing, “I’ve wasted my life for a moment of lucidity! To get what? When in this world there’s people like my brother, who tries with all his strength to not make a ripple on the surface! Or runs to our father for every little thing” 

“As you know it, it’s called external approval”, says Mairon coating his fingers: there’s nothing more sensual than a heated Melkor, “he’s trying to earn the approval from your father on a subconscious level. Exactly as he does with you” 

“I don’t give a fuck about my brother and his issues”, Melkor’s voice is again calm but the smirk on his lips shows the sadistic pleasure he feels towards his brother’s dependence on him. 

“I’m just fooling”, Melkor concludes as he’s cuddling Tevildo’s tummy, who’s drifting back to sleep after an intriguing, satisfying and victorious battle against Melkor’s hand, “just letting the adrenaline flow away” 

“I know”, Mairon whispers sensually in his ear before taking his lobe between the lips and nibbling. 

“I was thinking to take my car for a high-speed hot ride”, as he spreads his legs automatically. 

Mairon softly bites the top of his ear, “Oh, really?”, he sarcastically asks, gently pulling the buttocks apart. 

“I’m not so sure now”, Melkor smirks feeling beautifully exposed while Mairon’s fingers are gradually getting closer. 

“Anyway,”, Mairon starts with the slicked fingers just outside touching his hole, “I love your bad temper”, sensually gliding over his skin, “I have a lot of fun with it” 

“As I see you’re having a lot of fun also with my ass”, half moaned half gasped. 

“Yes”, Mairon confirms, moving on there with the very tip of the finger, building up the intensity slowly as he stimulates more of the nerve endings. When Melkor moaning exposes his ass a bit more, Mairon works his way up gingerly, penetrating him and pushing in very slightly. 

Melkor groans under the gentle finger pads back and forth manipulation, and, with Mairon’s scent around him, he slips outside his own world and finally relaxes, the endorphin taking the turn of adrenaline: pleasure shoots straight to his brain. 

The movements of Melkor’s body under his touch is pure instinct when the massive bundle of nerves send him over the edge of a deep-rooted, electrifying desire.

But “Come”, Mairon whispers, as slowly he pushes the fingers outside him, inviting to get out of the bed to change their position; he guides him to stand on his knees, on the soft bed frame on the edge of the bed: “You thought about this when you bought the bed?” 

“It’s custom-made and my first thought was about work”, Melkor replies, “whether you believe it or not” 

“But only initially”, Mairon whispers before placing himself behind him: he never took him standing from behind, Melkor thinks with a vicious smirk that turns into a sweet smile in the exact moment in which Mairon embraces him from the back and starts cuddling him tenderly in that hot hug: 

“I love your skin’s scent”, the younger man whispers, his lips and teeth busy in tracing a path from the base of his side neck to his shoulder, and back again to reach the other side, focusing just a bit longer on the base of his nape.

Melkor breaths out feeling Mairon standing uprightly behind him while he guides the shaft with one hand: he pushes the first few centimetres of the cock into him. “Yes”, Melkor whispers immediately and Mairon pushes himself another couple of centimetres: his passage feels wonderfully hot, tight, slippery from the lube around his cock, and Mairon’s sliding in easily, feeling any kind of resistance. 

“Push it right in”, Melkor gasps with pleasure, “all the way”, and Mairon grabs his hips and pushes himself another few centimetres: he moans, holding onto him with the cock about two thirds of the way inside him. He pushes further, sliding completely the rest of the cock into him, the hips against his buttocks and the cock fully buried into Melkor when finally Mairon’s balls touch the tops of his thighs. Melkor leans his head against Mairon’s shoulder and moans, sounding like he might be both in agony and ecstasy.

But the younger man’s not even remotely satisfied: “Your lips… I can’t love you without your lips”. 

Melkor smiles and turns himself around, so that their lips can reach each other now and, finally, they kiss slowly and sensually; Mairon’s arms wrap around Melkor, enjoying the feel of his strong chest and grabbing him more closely towards him. And Melkor embraces Mairon’s back, tightening the hot hug they’re locked in, squeezing his round and small butt perfectly shaped: they always find the way to kiss each other during their intercourses. 

Sudden and yet fantastic is the sensation of his long hair tickling Mairon’s already overly sensitive nipples: both the skin contact and the hair tickle send a flood of sensations jolted through him by those delightful and taut nubs. 

Melkor’s erection rises upwards from between the legs, already aroused just from the feel of having Mairon’s cock moving inside him. Mairon giggles and one hand travels along his chest and stomach, just to wrap the hand around his erection, the other hand squeezing lightly one nipple before reaching down and cupping his heavy balls. 

Mairon gasps in surprise and moans when Melkor’s hand grabs fisting into his coppery hair: “Fuck me hard”, he whispers before the tip of their tongues brushes against each other, outside their mouths. 

And Mairon smiles under that tongues’ play, quickly pulling the cock out of him between his ass’ cheeks, until only the head is still inside him, and then, holding firmly one of his hips, he slides it back into him more rapidly and deeply, exactly how Melkor loves it. 

“Fuck”, Melkor whispers breaking the kiss as Mairon filled him back up with it, caught a little off guard, forgetting for a while how the younger man can be rough, even brutal, if he means it.  
And, with Melkor’s moans around him, Mairon starts to pound his cock inside him using his complete body, the hand still stroking his huge length with a steady rhythm; and he nuzzles into the back of his head, smelling his rich, intoxicated scent and the sultry hint on his neck and back, and tempted bites at his shoulder aggressively. 

And then Melkor turns to him over his shoulder and they kiss again with his love buried deep inside him.  This time he’s the more dominant of the two of them and Mairon adores when he kisses him demandingly: he works the tongue into his mouth, pushing his aside and driving deep into his throat and sucking the whole tongue’s length. Mairon kisses him in response with the same passion, with the same need, wrapping both the arms around him again and grabbing his body towards him, the nails digging in Melkor’s chest and addictively tearing the skin. 

In that moment Melkor would desire to be in the shower room, with the mirror in front of them for he has no doubts: they have to look spectacular together, every single moan showing how intensely erotic they love making is, with their pulsing desire of being bonded together and the scent of their sex and skin mixing together. 

As if Mairon could read his mind, he closes his eyes, loving the fact that his pulsing cock, thrusting in and out of him so perfectly between those strong globes of his cheeks, is making his love gasping with excitement following the rhythm of the hips. And one hand wraps around Melkor’s erection again as he fucks him faster and faster. 

Melkor reaches underneath himself and grabs at Mairon’s balls, “Stay still” he moans, using the firm grip around his balls to slide his cock in and out of himself. The younger man lets him use his body to pleasure himself, fighting the orgasm increasing so faster, enjoying the feel of his quickening pumping in and out of his body, in bliss with that passive yet effective stimulation. 

Melkor’s grunting in a raw rapture when Mairon feels the orgasm almost ready to blow up inside him, so he holds his hip again and starts again to fuck him as quickly and as roughly as he can, making long and powerful thrusts.  
Melkor cannot resist and cries out loudly oozing hot cum shots down over Mairon’s hand wrapped around him, keeping the same fast movement. And some seconds behind his, Mairon’s climax powerfully explodes from deep within, copiously as well as loudly. 

Mairon looks even more strangely pale as he collapses onto the bed. Melkor grins at him and hugs him face-to-face. Then they kiss passionately some heavenly interminable moments, both missing one full embrace, arms surrounding one another, until Melkor cuddles up with him and falls asleep even before Mairon. 

 

* 

And now, as the Arabica blend reaches his nostrils, Melkor feels the perfect sense of relax. It seems that Mairon and his coffee are the cure for everything. 

“It’s strange”, speaks Mairon, when the clock in the kitchen says 11:23, “a man with a so deep interest in food and wine’s taste doesn’t research the same care with coffee” 

“That’s not exactly like you said”, replies Melkor, “I have my rules for coffee” 

“Since when you have rules?!”, utters Mairon, “So it’s a matter of rules?” 

“No”, Melkor hugs him from behind, wrapping the arms around his waist, and resting the head against his, “it’s a matter of pleasure” 

A tender surprise and Mairon leans the head against him, resting the head sideways on his back: in that hug only Melkor’s scent can surpass the smell of the coffee. He takes a deep breath and exhales.  
“What, then?”, he asks with curiosity. 

“First: high quality black coffee, and no shit inside like sugar, milk or, even worse, cream” 

“I got that one”, replies Mairon while Melkor gently clutches a little tighter for a couple of seconds. 

“And with you quality is  a sure thing”, he whispers in his ear and the red haired man giggles in his arms : beautiful, it’s beautiful to feel Mairon’s body relaxing into the hug and enjoy it. 

“Second: sitting somewhere in a comfortable place”, Melkor kisses his cheek before releasing the grab on Mairon to sit onto one bar stool at the kitchen island, “I don’t understand people who drinks coffee standing”. 

Mairon glances at Melkor. “Sometimes people has no time, you know…job, payments, things around city and so on”. And sometimes Melkor seems to live off the earth. 

“I don’t drink coffee if I don’t have time to enjoy it for at least three full minutes” 

As he speaks the little Tevildo jumps from the floor to one stool, and then from the stool to the bench; softly he rubs the head against Melkor, who rubs him back and gently twists his ears. Then the cat stands before him, covering elegantly his front paws with the long tail, glancing at the both of them alternately and sniffing the air with attention. 

“I see”, smiles Mairon, turning off the burner and waiting some seconds until the coffee is completely brewed. 

“Third”, Melkor goes on, “served” 

“Yes, served, you’re right: that’s so relaxing”, Mairon nods pouring the black coffee into the small and transparent cup for espresso, “and actually it’s the only thing you wait patiently for”.

“And fourth, but - mind it - not necessary, already paid…let’s say offered” 

“And I have to say it”, walking with the cup towards the island, “a true coffee lover you are” 

Melkor inhales the coffee’s aroma reverently. “So, what are you serving me?” 

“Oh, well”, jokes Mairon, “it’s just an incredibly overpriced and over-processed cup of coffee!”, pouring it into his own cup; then he takes his place next to him and Tevildo moves to brush up against him, rubbing the muzzle against Mairon’s face, who suspends his speaking for some seconds, just to pet the cat’s cheeks and chin and to give him a tiny peck on his head. 

“This is the finest 100% Arabica: six different coffee plantations roasted in wood fire, very strong on flavour, rich in aroma, almost earthy”, he explains. 

“Mmm”, Melkor murmurs; he loves Mairon’s coffee but it’s his skin scent that turns him on. 

“And self-offered! I don’t have to tell you how much you pay for it”, he smirks eventually. 

“I suppose I remember it”, replies Melkor with sarcasm, “so, what’s the occasion?”, he asks. 

“Our official first day together” 

“Yes, I survived”, Melkor laughs while he bends over him and gives a little peck on Mairon’s mole, “but I had no doubt” 

“Me and Tevildo had”, jokes Mairon. 

 “By the way, I was thinking about the laundry room” 

“For Tevildo? No, he sleeps with me… I thought it was clear” 

“I was not thinking about the cat!”, snarls Melkor, “For you” 

“You want me to live in the laundry room?”, Mairon jokes. 

“We could spit it in two and we could get an appropriate room all for you, _your office home_ , connecting with mine" 

“Really?”, Mairon looks at him in surprise; he never had an office room: in his old apartment he used to work on the kitchen’s table, not even remotely suitable for his work . 

“Of course you’ll draw your own office”, Melkor sips at his black coffee. 

Mairon smiles and Tevildo takes his place on his lap. “Talking about changes”, he says and sips at his coffee too, “I’ve been thinking about what you said two days ago and I’ve taken an important decision”. 

“I’m listening”, Melkor crosses the arms, trying to understand to what Mairon is referring to. 

“Not immediately, perhaps in two months”, placing the small cup on the bench “we adopt another cat”, Mairon solemnly states. 

Melkor frowns his forehead: “The dude here is enough” 

“No” 

“Sorry?” 

“I said ‘no’ and I’ve my reasons” 

Melkor can feel it, even see it clearly: one Mairon’s weird thing incoming. 

“First, as you rightly said, he’s young enough to learn how his life will run _and_ to accept another cat. You know, the more they get older the more is hard” 

“Second”, Mairon goes on, “Tevildo is happy with us and so it will be for the both of them. Once again exactly as you said”. 

Actually all that Melkor said is backfiring him. In that way Melkor learns the basic rule with Mairon, a rule he should’ve learnt some weeks ago when he got the first impression about his superb memory, but he wrongly gave it no importance at all: mind what you say because Mairon will literally rework it. And with this idea, Melkor smiles lightly for there’s _nothing_ in him that he doesn’t adore. 

“And third, it’s just unfair that he is alone all day long” 

“He was alone until now in your apartment”, Melkor points out. 

“My apartment is too small: two cats would suffer there; but here there’s plenty of space in your attic”. Mairon carefully omits the full project in his mind, saving it for a better moment and a more juicy discussion: the attic is suitable for at least three cats - his dream since he was young. 

“What if he reacts badly?” 

“No, listen, I got many cats and, honestly, his traits are so sweet and expansive. I think he would be glad to share his day with another cat” 

“Wait, no, get it out of your head”, says Melkor, totally unaware of Mairon’s plan, “you didn’t want to come here even for one night because you got a cat and now…they should be two?” 

“Things are _substantially_ different now and, no, I’m not going to change my mind” 

“I was so relaxed”, mumbles Melkor, “you’re so fucking skilled in making me pissed off”, but not really annoyed as the amused smile on his lips shows his feelings clearly. 

All of a sudden, Mairon stares at his rapid change in mood. He was smiling one second before, but now he’s serious and pensive and focused, shut in his inner and chaotic world, in some voluntarily deep and meditative seclusion, totally forgetting of him or the world around them. 

Melkor looks away for a long moment, his eyes lost somewhere before returning his attention to him, and this time, lost in Mairon’s hazel eyes, in his flecks of golden light. In that instant, his father’s  words are ringing in Melkor’s ears: 

‘ _You still believe that life or freedom is yours and yours only?_ ’ 

Mairon tilts his head: that impulsively chaotic man. He really would like to know what he’s thinking about but he simply takes his hand in his, respecting his silence without saying a word: presence it’s all that Melkor needs to feel. 

And Melkor understands that that’s what they are together: a perfect circle. “Wait here”, he murmurs, caressing Mairon’s hair gathered in a side braid. 

Melkor stands and walks through the living room; Tevildo raises his head and - together with Mairon – stares at the path Melkor is walking. As the man disappears from their view, Tevildo turns his head and looks at Mairon with an inquisitively expression. “You’re right, little one”, Mairon whispers cuddling him between the pointy ears, “there’s no way to keep him relaxed”. Tevildo’s little purr is like an answer.  Then, with the sound of the office door shut down, Tevildo moves to the stool next to him, kneads some seconds before curling up on the other side and breathing out deeply. 

It’s a matter of few minutes and Melkor appears again. 

“Now, Mr. Goldsmith”, he says, walking back towards the kitchen’s island, “how I made this?” 

“You made this?”, Mairon says incredulously. Melkor kisses Mairon’s creamy nape’s skin as response while the younger man studies with attention the band ring. 

“I think you exploited the different melting points between lava and gold”, Mairon starts, “well, gold fuses at about 1.064° Celsius and…I’m not sure about the lava melting point but for sure it depends about the rock components’ percentage. Let’s say…1.200-1.300°?” 

“Exactly, Mr. Goldsmith”, Melkor kisses the same spot once more, “1.300” 

“Lava is not mount  so you melted rock and then you encapsulated it in molten gold…?”, but he’s not sure about it at all. 

Melkor shakes the head: “No, Mr. Goldsmith” 

Mairon tilts his head on the side, studying the ring with awe. The ring is beautiful: raw yet elegant at the same time. 

“How stupid I’m! No, it doesn’t work that way: rock would be molten as well, at least partially. But here we have raw igneous rock”, Mairon states and Melkor nods with a smirk, “not even obsidian because…you searched for the rock’s raw aspect” 

“Now I understand”, Mairon says eventually, after some second spent thinking, “First the gold and then the rock but the point is…how you did it?” 

“How?” 

“It could be only with pressure” 

Melkor smiles: “The fused gold is injected by centrifugal force and vacuum-sealed directly into the lava rocks with high pressure” 

“Vacuum-sealed!”, Mairon gasps, “amazing!” 

“Since the lava melting point is 300 degrees higher than gold lava’s able to physically resist the impact of molten gold”, Melkor explains, giving a punch on his own palm to simulate the impact, “So the molecular structure of hot lava remains untouched and encapsulated into the melted metal that fills all the stone’s cavities. Then the normal forge for the ring around the gold” 

“When you did it?” 

“Some years ago and I patented it: I tried many times failing, believe me” 

“Yes, I can image: it’s not easy to find the right pressure with the risk of crushing the rock” 

“About 50 kilos pressure”, Melkor confirms. 

“Never heard about this technique before” 

“Just a youth leisure time” 

“Leisure time?”, Mairon smiles, studying again the ring, “for you everything is a game” 

“A challenge”, marks Melkor, taking the ring from Mairon’s hand. Then he puts the ring on Mairon’s ring finger: the size fits perfectly. 

“Look”, Melkor speaks, “it’s exactly like us: red gold and black lava blended together uniquely” 

“It’s as you said: our contradiction joined together”, Mairon laughs softly. Then he stands out of the stool: “And so, all this to say what? What this means to you?”. Mairon catches again the same pensiveness on his face. 

“You know it for you deeply understood the torment of my life”, Melkor starts, “I’ve been searching my whole life for the highest point of freedom, the feeling of the possible within the impossibility, or the impotence of man to fully realise his own life and his own power” 

Mairon listens to him carefully and his heart beats a bit faster in the chest when Melkor cups his face in his strong hands. 

“The perception of emptiness is the state of mind that stands before the freedom: when a man finally figures out that the freedom he perceives in his life is a non-freedom experience for every ethical and social choice is made in function of others and not for pursuing  an individual personality development; so the man feels the weight of his life and the feeling of not being free” 

“Then the void opens under the feet and everything falls apart: that’s the beginning, if man doesn’t fear the nothingness for what _is not_ yet – I call it ‘dizziness of freedom’: only the man who possesses a great spirit is able to come in contact with this pure but terrible feeling” 

“But what’s freedom, Mairon?”, asks Melkor rhetorically, “One idea. A mere idea that a man tries to put into effect by living? Perhaps, at the end of the path, the man turns the head and perceives his freedom built step by step. But no, that’s not freedom: it’s only its idea” 

Still cupping his face, Melkor leans in slowly, and stops about half a centimetre close to Mairon’s lips: “I’ve understand just now that freedom has to be concrete, real, even tangible: an unmoved mover. And you, Mairon, _you’re my freedom_ and I love my freedom with everything I’m made of, with every fibre of my being”. 

Mairon, conscious and aware of the fact that  he _can_ never love another man but him, leans in too, and then closes his eyes and goes in with a kiss. Melkor slides one hand at the back of his neck and the other hand travels gently behind his back reaching the waist and again down to his side and strokes, softly and sensually as the kiss goes on. 

Mairon shivers lightly when, with a quick eyes contact, Melkor moves aggressively but gently, his kiss sends thrills down the spine for no one kisses as Melkor does; their connection is making him feel vulnerable and protected at once, thing that makes the kiss even more exciting. It’s just an intense version of another feeling that makes Mairon to kiss the hell out of Melkor: liberating as the fuck they had some hours before.

“Your father will be a part of you forever, you know it?”, the younger man breaks the kiss abruptly. 

Mairon, the only person on the earth who can read and get to understanding his thoughts effectively, even without words. “Yes”, Melkor whispers consciously. 

“In one way or another, positively or negatively, but that’s it” 

Melkor nods and Mairon stands on his toes to kiss him, trying to reach the deepest of his soul, and lick it with the tip of his tongue: hell, he’s pure hell, and Mairon is the brightest part of his hell. 

Melkor went seeking liberty his entire life, naming it in different ways: fate, independence, destiny, power or free act. All those words means very little now to him compared to what his name accomplishes inside his soul with one simple breath: _Mairon_ – and _freedom occurred_ precisely because of his aiming at his own freedom through his _love_ to him. 

He doesn’t know what his father meant fully with that sentence because he’s not his father, but that has no importance for he knows what it means to him: 

“My life is not only mine, not anymore, and together, _my love_ , we are a perfect, golden, never-ending circle” 

“A ring”, Mairon whispers, “and you’re absurd, Mr. Bauglir”, before claiming again his soft and greedy lips. 

And now, consciously, Melkor’s entrusting the whole of his life to a young red-haired man with a black cat sleeping next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “absurdus” (Latin): contrary to reason or discordant or inharmonious.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah...Mairon...

*** Tuesday, the day after 

The two cups of morning coffee on the big trail – along with the traditional bunch of registered mails to endorse – are no longer frightful. Mairon’s face just a little. He serves the coffee to free his hands and, then, he walks towards the door to close it. 

Melkor sighs and takes the photochromic eyeglasses off disconsolately. He has to admit it in all honesty, Mairon has the draining capability to build a psychological suspense just with a simple glance: he’s a master at it, almost as much as him.  
But why, why always in his office? They woke up three hours before and, since then, everything has been simply perfect, a normal perfect day together involving all Melkor’s favourite things: Mairon’s hot body wrapped around him, hot cuddles, hot shower, hot coffee, hot car ride, hot work. 

“I'm fine fudging a line here and there”, Mairon starts, “because - I give you that one – truly your brother is not easy-going, but I'm not going to flat-out lie during working hours: it’s clearly ridiculous that _I_ ,”, pointing at himself with his accusatory index, “your personal assistant _and_ other half - which make us sharing the most of our days together, wouldn’t know where my boss is”. 

The destructive scenarios crowding Melkor’s mind vanish in a second and, finally, he hallows himself to take the cup in the hand and relish his coffee greatly. 

“Your mobile”, Mairon’s demanding hand’s unequivocal. 

“Four messages”, Mairon says, scrolling down what Melkor got from his brother, “look, not even read! What if it was something serious?” 

“Define ‘serious’ ”, between one sip and another. 

“With you it´s ‘work’ ”, Mairon smirks and tilts the head on the side, “And ‘sex’. Or ‘pleasures’ in general. But  I would say ‘work’ for this occasion”. 

“There’s a thing called preview” 

“I got _eight_ messages from him! It’s your brother and I’m not going to let it slide: reply him” 

“I don’t give a fuck” 

“You will when it comes to your sponsorship” 

“What should I say, then?” 

Mairon stands, puts his black suit jacket right and, taking with him the tray with his empty cup, “Tell him we agree”, before leaving his boss’ room.

 

***Saturday

 

The five buttons of the shirt Mairon’s wearing, that he barely managed to fasten, are quickly unfasten by an uncooperative mood Melkor. 

“-the smoked salt is mixed with northern pine and it smells like a bonfire. Can you image the taste? So evocative, so real?” 

“No”, whispers Mairon, feeling his hands stroking up and down his back under the shirt, now completely open, cupping his ass finally. 

“It’s like to eat in the middle of the forest near a fire, under the stars, during an early autumn night, with the first cold approaching”, Melkor continues, “Can you image the result from the union with fish?”, he asks sinking into his hair to twist his head in a certain way so he can kiss him harder, hotter. Like he’s starving for him. 

“No”, Mairon replies, lightly moaning on his lips, threading his fingers through his silky, dark hair; Melkor uses the opportunity to deepen the kiss, pressing his tongue inside his mouth and tasting him deeper. 

“I turn on the smoker with birch and beech selected wood”, Melkor interrupts the kiss abruptly, “then, I set the half wild salmon for twenty minutes”, sucking at his adorned lobe, “for the last thirty minutes cycle I add sawdust rich in resin, some herbs and citrus peels. Have you ever eaten a heavenly wild salmon like that?” 

“No”, Mairon shakes lightly the head, giving Melkor the reins completely: he’s quivering with want from the way he devours his skin. 

“And we eat on the floor in the living room freely, that magnum of sparkling white wine all for us”, but the crucial word comes last, “and _Tevildo_ sharing the fish with us” 

Mairon’s eyes sparkle and he has the time to giggle before Melkor’s tongue slips inside his mouth once again, caressing and withdrawing sweetly around him. 

“The program is not over”, Melkor lifts him to sit on the shelf in the middle of the two sinks, the bottles clinging against the mirror.

“Oh, really?”, asks playful Mairon, yet with sincere curiosity, for there’s nothing more beautiful than to be adored and praised by his man.  
Melkor spreads his legs easily with a firm nudge of the strong thighs, and, after some seconds of stillness, looking at each other playfully and meaningfully, he murmurs - as if someone could listen to them - “More than fifteen minutes”. 

Mairon bites lightly the bottom lip and all that he feels after is an electricity surging through his body spreading from the deep of his groin: “How can I resist?”

“You don’t have to”, smirks Melkor victorious, “just say ‘yes’” 

“Yes, that’s perfect”, Mairon says, but he has a reason to hold back in the first place, “for tomorrow evening”, changing completely voice and expression, “And now, get dressed”, wriggling out of Melkor´s possessive hug. 

* 

They’ve been sitting in the car parked outside Manwë’s house eight minutes; therefore, nothing weird if the host is silently scanning the situation from the closer window. 

“Sooner it starts, sooner it's over”, smiles Mairon. 

“When exactly”, Melkor asks with disgusted face, “you changed your mind about couples dinner?” 

Undoubtedly, it’s a bit _cruel_ to take advantage of his man’s utter _inaffectivity_ towards his brother to greatly enjoy moments of relaxation and fun, as the current Saturday’s evening dinner, that’s taking shape spectacular.  
After all, Melkor’s bad temper is the only addiction Mairon has ever had. 

“Your fault, once again”, Mairon explains, “you left me intrigued when you said that _together_ we would enjoy such events: let’s see if it’s true”. 

Two more minutes of stillness, during which Melkor courses himself and Mairon’s memory. 

“You don’t like being late”, Mairon changes focus, eyeing outside the car glass, “and it doesn’t suit you” 

“To him I make an exception to the rule, though”, the architect replies cynically. 

“The wine is getting warmer” 

“That’s a pity”, Melkor comments, no irony in his voice, seriously concerned about the magnum wine bottle. 

Now the hosts at the closer window are two. 

Well, Mairon ponders, if they have to be labelled as odd, eccentric, ill-mannered or in any way they could consider them, it has to be for a massive show with, at least, a bang. 

“You know what?”, utters Mairon, when, all of a sudden, he embraces his man lovingly, “I’d like an aperitif while you take decision about how enough late is to get your bro pissed off in the right way”. 

He starts kissing Melkor’s jawline lightly, until his mouth reaches his ear and back again, tracing along the pathway twice, while one hand strokes his thigh, starting on the side, rubbing up and down the muscles, feeling them tense, powerful and firm. Then, the hand strays across the bulge in the trousers. 

Melkor is in a sort of stupor, eyes half lidded as he assaults Mairon’s lips with a demanding kiss, for he didn’t image he was going to be his aperitif. 

“We are being watched”, speaks Mairon, knowing the effect of those words on him, tracing a wet stripe along his full lip; Melkor carefully tilts the head on the side to glance unnoticed at the above-mentioned window: his lips shaping into a smirk is a clear sign of what Melkor’s feeling at that moment.  
Quickly, for Mairon’s attention and for having viewers, he grows hard in the trousers, aroused as hell since the soft-core affections they had in the bathroom just half hour before and desperately wanting a release. 

Once Mairon gets the button opened and the zip pulled down, he starts tugging on the underpants.  
Easing the operation, Melkor lifts his ass off the seat to help him pulling everything down just the little necessary, and his hard cock springs free with a guttural sound from his throat.  
Mairon wraps his hand around it and squeezes lightly the precum out, which he licks softly with the velvety tip of the tongue. He licks again a few times, and not only the head, before wrapping his lips around the cock and starting to deepthroat it. 

Mairon’s quite skilled in giving blowjobs - Melkor knows it very well, but it’s always a spectacle when he easily takes the full cock all the way in: it’s such a godly feeling that he can barely control the orgasm when the complete length of it is fully inside Mairon’s mouth. 

Cupping and fondling the balls from between the legs with one hand, Mairon’s mouth starts hungrily sliding up and down: his warm, wet mouth engulfing it all the way down to his pubes while blowing him. 

Humming around the head, he releases the cock: “You want to see me choke on it, don’t you?”, tilting his head to look up at him. 

Oh, when Mairon talks dirty to him with those hungry eyes... A more intense thrill of arousal shoots down Melkor’s spine while reaching his nape and wrapping the fingers around it, firmly and erotically for a while before moving and reaching his head, forcing him down onto his cock; he holds him there while lifting the ass off the seat to fuck his mouth properly.  
With that pressure, Melkor’s cock swells and comes. He feels the release in the balls as he explodes hardly.

Mairon keeps swallowing, Melkor keeps on coming and no drop is wasted at the end. 

Mairon slowly licks the shaft clean before cleaning his own lips. Melkor can feel himself getting hard again, but tries to control his body until they get home. 

No one at the window. 

“All right, come on, let’s go”, Melkor finally says, lifting his ass again to put underpants, shirt and trousers right. 

* 

“We got an unplanned thing”, Melkor says with a smirk talking about their nearly twenty-five minutes of late. 

Yes, they know it.  
But Manwë cares not, crinkling him in his arms with all his fraternal love, finally having his brother in his home. 

In such way, Varda envies them: she never got unplanned things. Not with her husband.  
She feels…well, she doesn’t know what she has to feel towards him. 

“Melkor, please, meet my beloved wife, Varda” 

Varda smiles as they shakes reciprocally the hands, acting kind of cold to him.  
Yet, yet, he’s charming, she has to admit to herself: a wild and intriguing version of her husband. 

When she was setting the table some hours before, with those beautiful and sweet-scented apricot roses in the middle of it (probably Manwë had a hand in it, she wrongly thought), Varda meditated longer on the approaching event. ‘Event’, that was what her husband affirmed when he told her they were going to have guests on Saturday evening.  
She pondered on the fact that Melkor has been the phantom who lived together with them (and sometimes even between them) through his **absence**.  
Even before she fell in love with Manwë, when he was only her boss, the most spoken words that came out of his mouth were – and still are - ‘my brother’: ‘my brother said’, ‘my brother did’, ‘my brother likes’.  
And there he is: his brother. A huge insensitive, egocentric, rancorous and selfish man. Now she knows perfectly what she has to think about him: a man like that, who so easily cut his brother out of his life for four years with no remorse, has to be a real asshole.  
Moreover, she won’t forget it: Melkor didn’t even go to their marriage. What kind of man would just ignore his brother’s wedding? 

At that point, Mairon is quite used to be hugged by Manwë that he doesn’t even notice it. 

“And please, meet Mairon” 

Introducing his partner, her husband interrupts her thoughts’ flowing. 

“Pleased to meet you, Mairon”, Varda says with her crystal-clear voice, not less coldly as well as smilingly. 

Just to make matters worse, for that _event_ in her home, she has to put up also with his _lover_. Of course, a man like him could not have anything different than a younger and eager man as lover, to keep his self-esteem up.  Yes, a lover: he has to be a mere user and lover, giving sufficient consideration to what happened in the car under their window. Furthermore, through a deeper reconsideration, no living person with a true self could share a real life with that kind of man.  
No one can understand how she had to work on her husband, to help him to live a better life far from his brother’s shadow. Unfortunately, before that scene, in which Manwë was basically climbing his brother, she got she did it wrong. Or without any kind of real success. 

Giving a glance around him, Mairon feels satisfied of himself. The bouquet of soft apricot roses he personally ordered - and in the late afternoon delivered to the hostess - befits to Varda and the whole house. As it seems, Mrs. Elentári-Súlimo has a passion for apricot roses, as the four still life paintings in the living room prove. Without counting those little glass vases with stabilized everlasting roses all over the house: on the bar at the entrance, in the living room, in the corridor that brings to the private rooms and - Mairon would bet on it - probably also in the guest bathroom. Even the white linen tablecloth is adorned with soft apricot roses.  
In the midst of all those roses, Mairon wonders about her weakest point. 

Inviting the guests to take their sit around the elegant table, Manwë shows the seating chart: 

“Melkor, please, take your seat”, showing the chair on his right side, “and Mairon, please, sit yourself down”, on his left side. 

His brother has always had a thing for etiquettes; Melkor agrees on formalities, anyway: it’s the easiest way to keep the distance. But what he doesn’t want to keep is the distance between him and Mairon. In a way he has not yet figured out, I’ll fix that problem after solving the dilemma about the dish Varda’s serving to him, as well as to each of them: a big, elegant ceramic with a single portion of potatoes, green beans and carrots savoury pie served as starter, some thin slices of what seems a badly cooked roast beef as main dish and a fennel, orange and almonds salad as side dish. All together in the same dish.  
Melkor closes his eyes and curses silently.  
Luckily, he brought wine. 

“Here,” Manwë says, holding out a wooden spoon covered in mustard-coloured sauce and moistening the meat. “Before you taste it, try this on the top of the roast beef. See if it’s not the best thing you’ve ever tried”. 

The sauce smells sweet, like a fruit compote. In fact that’s an attempt of an apple and onion ‘sweet and sour’ gravy, Melkor understands finally.  
He casts a grim look towards Mairon: it’s all his fault if he’s there at the very  moment and not at home with his wild salmon masterfully smoked. 

Manwë gives the meat a taste, and makes an appreciative nod: “Perfect!”, he says, “Absolutely delicious, as usual, my dear”, speaking with his wife, “Why have a dinner in restaurants if we can have all this in the comfort of our own home?”. 

Varda smiles proud of her good job around the kitchen and Mairon glances rapidly at Melkor, enjoying every single variation of black painted on his face. 

“Um”, then Mairon samples, “this roast beef is unusual: never tried with apples. And cinnamon, right?” 

“Cinnamon and cloves”, points out Varda, “but the secret is a very sprinkle of nutmeg, not too much to not cover the other tastes as it tends to be a little predominant” 

Melkor gives a chance to the potatoes pie: unsalted and insipid. He pours resignedly in his glass: for him it will be a wine dinner. 

“And so,”, Melkor starts, completely unconcerned about the rule ‘no business at the dinner table’, “the registry for the firm registration resulting from our partnership shall notify without delay the registry in which each of the companies are required to file documents”. 

Mairon rolls his eyes with an evident expression of exasperation. 

“Are you presenting a paper for it?”, asks Manwë, pouring the wine into his glass and studying the bottle label. 

“Already done”, says Melkor, “I’ve sent it to you via email yesterday late in the evening” 

“Late in the evening….”, his brother repeats just a bit absent-minded, turning the bottle on the other side, “I was about preparing a list of questions that relates to our current business concerns” 

“I’ll be glad to resolve your issues and…”, says Melkor, observing closer his brother carefully, while his eyes get lost little by little as if mesmerised, “perhaps next meeting I should bring a ball or something that is harder but can be thrown” 

“Mm-m”, Manwë nods, automatically. 

“Then, we just start tossing it around the room or, alternatively, we could hit your legal with it, in a very bad way: a kind of third-party enjoyment we can get from the smallest, simplest things in life. Which would be great as I hate your fucking legal” 

“Why not”, murmurs Manwë out of space and time, totally focused on the bottle. 

Mairon chuckles, loving Melkor’s funny side when it rarely peeps out. Funny side or – better to say – when Melkor covers what he thinks with a veil of irony. 

“But…Manwë?!”, says Varda dazed. Moreover, she has a weakness for Eönwë. 

“A magnum bottle!”, Manwë utters all of a sudden, “come to think of it, my dear, do you remember our last trip?” 

“Sure!”, she smiles, here it was what that bottle made her think of, “you mean our favourite place?” 

“That one! As welcome we always get strawberries and a magnum of sparkling, exactly like this one!”, says Manwë heartbrokenly. 

“That’s the best sparkling of the land!”, points out Melkor: how is it possible to remember a wine just because someone offered it to you during a trip? Where on the earth has he wound up? 

“Oh, brother, that island is really something, you would love it as we do!”, Manwë begins to tell, “the smaller isle that belongs to the Balar complex. That’s the ideal place for relaxing holidays: we reserve it once per year since three years!” 

“Yes, I’ve heard of it”, says Mairon, “it’s a private isle, isn’t it?” 

“Exactly. Usually it’s not so known since…well, no mystery around it: it’s an exclusive and elitist five-star island. As you can image, there’s a long waiting list. The owner said us it’s booked from now to two years but”, Manwë lowers his voice, “brother, if you’re interested in it, I can give you the owner’s direct contact and for sure they’ll find a room for you in short time”, hitting his brother’s arm with his elbow. 

Mairon wonders if Melkor has ever been somewhere on holidays. Consequently, Mairon wonders if Melkor has the word ‘holidays’ in his mental dictionary. 

“You should see it”, Manwë says dreamy, “rugged green landscape and fantastic beaches” 

“There are four beaches listed as the most beautiful and immaculate in the whole Beleriand”, says Varda proudly, speaking mainly with Mairon, “if you’re interested in hiking and mountain biking, the entire island is rocky but covered with pine forests” 

“And one must not miss a boat trip to the Marine Park around the Mouth of Sirion: once we saw a rare seal - you remember, honey? -, but it’s not so easy to see them”, Manwë warns. 

“Yes”, says Varda, twinkles in her eyes, “One can reserve a part of the isle, as there are three main buildings, but it means to share it with other people. By choice one can book it entirely” 

“Usually”, explains Manwë, “we book the whole island as we don’t like to have…you know, inconvenience with other ‘tenants’: it’s a matter of privacy to us. But if you’re interested we could reserve the place all together!” 

“Honey, don’t push it!”, Varda scolds, certainly not very keen on the idea, “Let them decide!” 

Daydreaming about sharing again some free time with his brother, Manwë bursts out laughing: “You remember when we were teens and we went to the beach with dad?, placing his hand on Melkor’s arm. 

Ah, the priceless moment about family memories: Mairon was waiting for it impatiently. 

“He wore heavy military boots!”, Manwë explains to Mairon and Varda, as he laughs. “Could you imagine the look on our father’s face, trying to keep his normal composure? And Melkor doing things just to annoy him?” 

Mairon laughs, “You put the image in my head so, yes, I image him as he had the pleasure of annoying your father!” 

“That’s exactly what happened every single time!”, says Manwë, “we went there a couple of time and-” 

“Three”, specifies Melkor with an amused grin, still enjoying how much is father was angered at him. 

“Right! Three!”, nods the younger brother, recalling one forgotten episode. 

“After he gave up for good”, tells Melkor, watching Mairon as he laughs. Mairon’s laugh is so restorative for him. 

“Yes, but tell him why”, smiles Manwë. 

“I got heavily drunk at the beach bar and I was underage”, Melkor tells, and Varda checks how much of wine is left in the five litres bottle. 

“Just to be clear”, Melkor clarifies, “I did it to get that story over once and for all” 

“How old you were?”, asks Mairon curiously. 

“Fifteen”, he replies, “my aim was making him been stripped of parental rights, I thought it could have worked” 

“Are you joking?”, asks Mairon incredulous. 

“My plan failed miserably just because no one called the police”, explains Melkor, “People always tends to interfere in other people’s affair but, that day, they were all concerned with their own business” 

“Believe me, Mairon”, Manwë nods, “our father has seen it all with him” 

“I’m sure of it”, Mairon shakes his head and smiles sweetly at him. Melkor answers with a small seductive smirk. 

Having him chosen to not give a chance – not now not ever - to one _boiled_ roast beef, Melkor tries the salad: not that bad with the right food matching.  
So, he gets out of the chair: “Where’s the fridge? In the kitchen?”, he asks: in a house in which meat is served with a thing closer to a dessert cream than a savoury sauce, nothing is certain. 

“Yes”, replies Manwë a bit disoriented, “Anything you need?” 

“Sooner or later we’re all going to die”, he explains, “about me, certainly not poisoned” 

Thus, Melkor leaves the living room, under the hosts’ inquisitive eyes and a seriously amused Mairon; the younger man scans the look on their faces: on Varda’s face comes for a moment an incredulous look that immediately becomes confused, and she tenses up glaring quizzically at his husband, who fondly explains with a lower tone of voice: “Peculiar, he has always been peculiar”. 

Mairon hardly stifles a laugh: to see the brothers at work in familiar contexts is one of the most funny thing ever, second only to Melkor’s anger outbursts. 

“I like the roast beef”, says Mairon, sounding surprisingly sincere, “I’d gladly take another slice. And the salad is incredible” 

“Sure”, Varda hands him the serving plate with the meat. 

“In our family we got the tradition of putting photos and memorabilia into a family keepsake albums, along with relevant journaling, mostly about our father’s articles”, explains Manwë to Mairon, “Do you have the same tradition in yours?” 

“Oh, well, no”, says Mairon, “we don’t have this…tradition” 

“Nowadays I’m keeping this thing alive, adding recent pictures, facts involving me and my company and Melkor’s successes as well” 

Now Mairon has the evident certainty that Manwë has a kind of obsession with the idea of family, probably he got that from his father. He pretends to be interested. 

“I would gladly add a pictures of us, all together”, Manwë ‘s eyes sparkle, “but I know Melkor doesn’t like these kind of matters” 

“I would not force him”, nods Mairon with all his politeness. 

“Surely not, but…we never know! Perhaps thing will change in a near future!”, Manwë smiles full of hope. 

In the meantime, as her husband talks about his photos collection, Varda is lost in thoughts, puzzling over what they do when they’re in the bed together. 

Fortunately, it’s only a matter of ten minutes and Melkor unceremoniously comes back at the dinner table with a dish filled with one easy omelette; the fact is that, that omelette is a simple yet perfect marriage of distinctively flavours: the pungent aroma of white truffles permeates the eggs beautifully and the light hint of lemon completes stunningly the smell. To not talk about the visual stimulation: soft, slightly swollen with a creamy heart and a golden-brown exterior. 

“Why don’t you cook for us all next time?”, murmurs Varda unconsciously. 

Melkor places the dish next to Mairon, then he takes his chair and moves it to sit next to his partner – as is natural. And if someone dares to tell him anything about that matter, he’ll be delighted to say what he thinks. 

“I-is it the white truffle?”, Manwë asks, “one customer just gave it to me some days ago and I was wait-” 

“That was not the right way to store a white truffle, you know it?”, rebukes Melkor as he helps himself to the salad from the bowl as side for his course. 

He stabs the fork into the omelette and cuts a small slice off but, instead of bringing it to his mouth, he offers it to Mairon. “Taste it”, he orders, his arm circling Mairon’s shoulders as if they were alone at home. 

And Mairon goes in with the tasting and it tastes exactly the way it was supposed to taste, with full aromas and crispy with a beautiful crust and firm yet fluffy consistency.  
Erotic, even the omelette is erotic. 

Once again, Varda finds herself envying them: palpable, their understanding’s palpable. Do they – her and her husband, she means – look so naturally linked together from the outside?  
Perhaps, she made a too snap judgment about their relationship. 

And while Melkor finally enjoys the meal, Mairon drops a bomb in the middle of the quite dinner: he has no intention of spending the rest of the evening listening to Melkor as he talks about job matters or to Manwë and Varda as they talk about their luxury holidays. 

“Have you read about that man”, he begins, “the one who was about scamming his client out of money?” 

“The business man, you mean?”, asks Manwë, sipping at his wine. 

“It’s in all the papers, even in the financial ones”, says Melkor, rising his eyebrow, having no clue about Mairon’s point. 

“Yes, that one”, Mairon confirms, “undoubtedly it’s an interesting topic from many points of view” 

“I don’t know this story”, asks curiously Varda, “what happened?” 

Mairon’s eyes sparkle. “Well”, he starts, “a rich business man has an enviable public life with his brilliant job, his family, his wife and his sons. And then, the other one - _a five years secret life_ \- with a young lover to whom he paid the studies and bought one sumptuous apartment in the heart of the city” 

Varda turns her nose up at it: it’s not elegant to talk about extramarital affairs during a family dinner. 

“And everything would have run without glitches as the two lives were so well organised and kept one afar from the other”, Mairon goes on, “just to give an example, even the man managed to cover the lover’s spending in a very clever way ” 

“Really?”, asks Varda full of doubts, “How?” 

“Through small withdrawals from his clients’ bank accounts”, Mairon explains, “covering them immediately with his personal account” 

“That was possible only because he got his own bank account!”, Varda broods on it triumphantly, thinking about the fact that, on purpose, she decided to share with her husband the bank account. 

“Contrary”, Mairon points out, “they had a joint account but he justified all the money transfers as job expenses. Matter of fact, money were wired on customers’ accounts so… really anything suspicious in it” 

“Right”, Varda bites his bottom lip with a straight impulse to check her bank account, “and so, how the story broke?” 

“That’s the point, Varda”, Mairon smiles at her.  
In that moment, Melkor asks himself how Mairon can remember his brother’s wife’s name properly. 

“Unexpected variant”, says Mairon finally, “also called ‘love’ ”. 

Varda frowns the forehead, before he keeps with the telling: “Now, to his credit - as the business man said – he tried to protect his family until the end, especially his sons, without being away in the most important moments of their lives, as well as the most difficult ones, as sickness and so on. And just as he was about to leave the lover for he decided that his right place was with his family, utterly and deeply, something came up: he presented her with a fait accompli and she just freaked out, calling his wife on the phone and telling her everything – and I mean every small detail of it - about their five years relationship” 

Varda’s face is visibly embittered. 

“Not satisfied the girl managed to meet his wife in her work place because she was totally aimed to destroy their marriage: if she couldn't have him...well, then no one could, not even the legal wife” 

“And you call this love?”, Varda stares at him with her mouth open in shock. 

“I’m not questioning her feelings towards the man and I’m not judging anyone”, specifies Mairon, “I simply assume it as a very possessive love” 

“This story is so terrible”, Manwë comments lowering his gaze, “morally reprehensible and, also from a working point of view, totally and inexorably wrong” 

“I feel so bad for the man’s wife”, says Varda glancing at her dish too, feeling very down, “after all the man felt regretful for what he did…it’s a pity all crashed down: I think he really tried to save his family” 

“It’s true what you say but just think about it”, says Mairon, “in a way or another the family was not protected at all, even if with...let’s say good intentions” 

“What you think about all this, brother?”, Manwë teases Melkor, “You are the only one missing” 

“The man was simply an absolute idiotic”, says Melkor openly, “for he lose control of the whole situation and, of fact, everything was out of hand even if he thought the contrary” 

“Interesting”, utters Mairon, “for you it’s a matter of control” 

“What I mean is this”, says Melkor seriously, placing his elbow on Mairon’s chair, just to look at him into his eyes, “if I wanted to be unfaithful, no one could have become aware of it”. 

Varda is floored. If it was Manwë who spoke those words she would have gone in for the kill. She eyes Mairon immediately. 

“That’s doubly interesting!”, smiles Mairon, “So, you think there are some rules for a betray? Even if – logically speaking – it doesn’t exist a politically correct infidelity” 

“Decrease the number of variables”, Manwë promptly replies to Mairon’s question, under Varda’s shocked eyes, “for example, the most important factor that could have a stronger influence is regularity. That implies to not have a stable and permanent lover: one-night stand, for periodicity effects on feelings, willing or not”. 

“Quick fucks”, summarizes Melkor, “of course, not involving people you might know but perfect strangers, and better if outside your usual work environment” 

“Right”, Manwë nods, “you can’t trust anyone out here, not even your lover: better if lovers know very few about you”. 

Varda’s eyes widens as if she can scarcely believe what she’s witnessing. 

“Never say where you live”, Mairon specifies, “only encounters in hotels and not in your city, if possible” 

“Business trips”, says Manwë, “without a trace behind you as cheques. But now comes the troubles: how to justify a double room if you travel alone?” 

“That’s not a problem at all: usually hotel companies set special offers for business trips so one can simply lie”, Mairon utters, “but what you said, Manwë, brings into the play the financial aspect of the betrayal - the hardest part, I think” 

“Not really”, speaks Melkor, “cash, only cash and no gifts, except for money itself” 

“But when one involves a huge amount of money”, considers Manwë, “problems come sooner or later” 

“Who would involve such a big amount of money? Only a moron, so we're back where we started: the man we spoke about is only a failed man”, ends Melkor with evidence. 

“And what says the only woman at our table?”, asks Mairon politely. 

“Well”, Varda’s a little embarrassed as adultery is not exactly her favourite topic, “I don’t know what I would tell”, she pauses. 

“To me infidelity is…ridiculous!”, Varda bursts out, fixing her eyes on her husband, “It’s ridiculous to say there’s extramarital sex or, even more, extramarital relations! It’s unreasonable to justify them saying that there’s people who can easily split sex and feelings…and you know why? If anyone in the world could do it, he’d be a real monster!” 

“And what you said, all of you, is just horrible! It doesn’t even exist what you, _Manwë_ , said… ‘one-night stand’! Or a parallel life that lasts ten years! Ten years!!” 

“Was it five, wasn’t it?”, asks Manwë, “Five, dear, not ten” 

But Varda doesn’t pay attention to anyone: “This idea hurts even more than a…”, she searches and finds the strength to repeat those odious words, “a quick fuck!” 

“Calm down, dear, calm down”, Manwë’s face’s a little nervous, still he tries to look calm and relaxed around his guests, “you’re overreacting: we were just speaking-” 

“You want rules?”, she asks rhetorically and hysterically to Mairon, “yes, there are some golden rules! First, if you have to betray me”, her attention on her husband anew, “keep on loving me! Keep on being as you’ve always been: there with me for me.  
Second, I must never know about it! Man, you have to be perfect: I won’t check your mobile, I won’t search for lipstick traces on your shirt, I won’t smell your hair searching for a perfume that’s not ours but that’s your main business: erase all the traces!  
Third point, that’s looks easy but it’s not, especially for you men: use that fucking condom! I don’t want to be exposed while I’m thinking I’m protect in my own bed!  
Fourth, follow the rules! I swear if it happens to me I’ll follow the rules from the first to the last and then, you do it!” 

After creating that scene, Varda looks again cool, sitting bolt upright, bright-eyes, one hand on top of another, quite collected and calm with her hair gathered in a romantic side bun adorned with two pearl pins and dressed in a lilac-grey floral lace sheath. 

“Even though I’m your personal secretary”, however she begins again, “thing that makes me the person I should be afraid of - while you’re working, I’m so horribly jealous that I barely resist the temptation to control you during your business trips or work lunches!”, Varda stands up out of the chair, her suddenness startles them all, “To exorcise the fear of betrayal, I adopted the easiest and the most effective solution: honey, I betrayed you first!”, rushing out of the living room on her high stilettos heels. 

Mairon smirks and breaths in seraphically, enjoying every second of that sweet chaos made up _almost_ accidentally by various combinations.  
Melkor glances at him, and then turns his head to his brother, deadly still with his eyes fixed on the empty chair. 

“Forgive me, brother”, murmurs Manwë after a while, placing his hand on his brother’s arm and grabbing at him tightly, “if I leave you here in the middle of our dinner together, but I’m not feeling so good all of a sudden”.  
He leaves the table and the living room following his wife. 

“Please tell me that”, Melkor sneers incredulous with a vivid light in his cold blue eyes, “we’ve just ruined my brother’s marriage!”.  
Once more he finds himself enjoying a sinister and sadistic pleasure when it comes to his family. 

“I don’t think so”, says Mairon pouring some wine in his glass as nothing happened, “I think we helped it, actually” 

“I’m not following you”, Melkor shakes his head: nothing looks clear to him at that moment. 

“Well”, Mairon takes a sip at the wine, “your sister-in-law has a flare for drama and a deep fear of  betrayal” 

“Therefore, she cheated on him…?” 

“Pass me one small confectionery, please?”, asks Mairon pointing at the silver serving plate full of home-made petit fours decorated with small lovely roses. 

“No”, then Mairon replies, “her speech was completely irrational and inconsistent at the end: she suspected that Manwë might have betrayed her and so she attacked claiming she did it before him. You know, it’s only a stupid defence mechanism” 

“How the fuck you knew it?!”, Melkor utters. 

“I didn’t, ”, he takes a bite of the small sweet and makes a funny face, “I simply imagined it…perhaps all the roses around us”. 

“I wonder why”, Mairon pauses a while pensive, looking into the deep of Melkor’s eyes, “some people need to consider themselves blameless even before doing something that will take them to pay less respect for themselves” 

Melkor glances at him: “You scare me, Mairon, a lot” 

Mairon giggles and shows the pastry, “This is not for you: nauseatingly sweet” 

“The whole dinner was not for me”, grunts Melkor. 

“Make me that delicious omelette for breakfast, will you?” 

 “Earn it before!”, smiles Melkor, “Let’s go home”. 

Mairon smiles sweetly and, leaning over him, he cups his jaw with one hand: “You were right”, he whispers softly on his lips, watching him with adorning eyes, “I had a lot of fun, with you, my love”, he kisses him fondly.

And, probably, that night Varda gets her ‘unplanned thing’ with her husband, judging from the case of ten magnum bottles of the best sparkling wine of the land that Manwë apologetically delivers to Melkor at his house the following day.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took three months but finally I manage to add another chapter! And, hey, exactly one year ago I began this journey (in the tube) posting the first chapter of this story!! Thank you for still being with me: this wouldn't have been possible without your support. ♥Thank you♥ :´)
> 
> And stay tuned!! Next chapter going to be porn without plot (you know, there's no much of smut in this fic XD ) with a very very possessive and kinky Melkor♥

*** Sunday, the next day 

Tevildo’s chock-full little dish was emptied with a speed out of the ordinary, as if he was waiting for any different than a good serving of wild smoked salmon; and, of course, he was, detecting for first that delicious smell in the air.  
After that hard work called ‘evening dinner’, the black cat has placed himself on the elegant couch, lying on his back, eyes narrowed in blessed satisfaction and Mairon’s long fingers cuddling him with his special feathery touch all around his sweet spots.  
Tevildo eyes for a faint second the other man: if only Melkor joined sitting next to him - with his extraordinary body heat working like a living stove - all that would be the last level of feline paradise. 

“A little overdramatic, as usual”, says Mairon with a slight smile, reaching with the free hand the glass between the two serving plates. 

“The roast beef was _boiled_ ”, emphasises again Melkor. 

“That was not that bad and”, Mairon sips at the special vintage-dated white wine they are sharing, “just consider that not anyone enjoys a rare or medium meat as we do” 

“Wait, wait”, says Melkor, “I’m not talking about the meat itself but how it was cooked: there are many ways to get the meat well-done and still succulent, tender and not chewy” 

“And the secret is…?”, Mairon asks curiously. 

“More than one, obviously”, Melkor takes the glass from Mairon’s hand for a little sip too, “not shocking the meat before cooking it, seasoning it well, roasting topside and cooking it to right temperature. Well, you´ve never eaten a better roast beef, clearly” 

“You never did it to me, actually”, Mairon shakes the head. 

“I will, then you’ll taste the difference”. 

With glittering eyes but not for the alcohol effect - ok, maybe just a little -, Mairon tilts his head on the side in a moment that seems nothing short of perfection to him: sitting on soft pillows on the floor in the middle of the sunken living room, using the low table as mere support for dishes and glass, having all the time for them, talking of everything, noisily purring cat taking a snooze, him and his attentive-to-his-desires man. 

“Dramatic and beyond”, Mairon smiles again, “cheeky” 

“You like when I’m cheeky, just face it” 

“Definitively”, the younger man admits. 

“That’s for upstairs”, Melkor smirks and sips again at the glass. 

“You know, I like this little habit we have,”, Mairon states observing him, “to share a glass of wine together. Maybe you didn’t notice it but, yesterday, you automatically reached and used my wine glass during the dinner, when we sit together” 

“It has become a ritual, I can’t help it”, Melkor gets closer him sitting on the floor, leaning back on the couch. 

“A ritual”, repeats Mairon pensive, with a sort of awe in his green eyes, “I like it and it’s somehow addictive” 

“A little thing for us. It happens inside a relationship to find small habits that one has only with that person”. 

Mairon´s eyes roam around the room and finally fix on the fireplace - where soft tongues of fire dance around burning wood, wondering about his past relationship: has he ever had a ritual with Eönwë? Perhaps, studying in the same room without disturbing each other is not exactly what Melkor meant. 

“What´s on your mind?”, asks Melkor fondly, seeing the changes in Mairon´s face, studying him while he lovely bites the soft skin inside the cheek. 

“I´m thinking about human relationships”, Mairon shakes his head, “not me, not you but in general”, eyes still on the flames. 

“Talking about it, I was a little surprised when first you told me you don’t like crowded places or going out on nights” 

“I´m not that much of a social being. The truth is, I don’t much care for the time I was born into and hollow situations bug me so much”, Mairon looks away from the flames to fix the gaze on Melkor, “But, with you, everything around me feels so different” 

That look Melkor knows so well, when it’s painted on Mairon’s face: if he looks deeply enough in his eyes, he can touch him, his very soul, or, sometimes, he can find himself in them, as if their lives, though so different, could brush and intertwine with each other, like the _weave_ of the same story. He circles his arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer against his chest and holding him there, in silence. Feeling the light touch of his black hair tickling his cheek, Mairon leans his forehead on his neck, needing a skin-to-skin contact with him. And there, taking a deep breath, he inhales Melkor´s opiate: a warm, sultry and sensual scent of ecstasy. 

“I’ve always believed that love – whatever it means – does not solve relationship problems, on the contrary, it-”, Mairon pauses a while, “it worsens intensifying them”. 

Melkor nods silently, resting his cheek on the top of his head, just offering him a listening ear and an understanding heart for his silent darkness. All for him, his Mairon, psychologically stronger and emotionally more balanced than him, and yet so reluctant to talk about his inner world but so hungry to reveal it to _him_. 

“When I was young”, Mairon begins, “I got my eyes fixed on my parents, understanding nothing of _the adults’ world_ , not even catching the sense of their decisions or actions, obscure enigmas to me; but I learnt quite soon that what they did, starting from a calm discussion, followed by a quick mood change, ending in sudden collisions, influenced me deeply”. 

“Not for what they said”, Mairon lightly shakes his head, “words do not touch a child, who’s avid of a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’: indeed, words had only the power to confuse profusely. No, I understood that any time it could happen: from a quiet exchange may explode a sudden storm, with banged doors and thrown objects. I felt anxious at every little violent cracking in their voices and I was worried about their decisions, that got the power of shift the normal course of days or even weeks. And, all of a sudden, I found myself in mom’s arms, which happened far too often, while she was sobbing and telling me I was her little world full of love and her happiness. And still, I’ve never felt safe with her nor happy: I think I perceived all that like such an…unfairness - as it was - and I felt baffled and betrayed”.

Melkor recalls the bitter taste of abuse, that feeling digging inside and growing over the years, when someone feels cheated on by life, cheated on by the one he trusted in: the one who should have taught you how to live.  
And still, there’s no grudge in Mairon’s voice or words. 

“Why your parents used to fight?” 

“I think my mom felt inside of her the roots of her unhappiness but-“, Mairon stops for a second, “she couldn´t understand them” 

“Smothering love”, Melkor comments, “impossible to deal with” 

“She lived our relationship as if I was responsible for maintaining her happiness, probably because she thought she had no other joy outside of me: she started to become very selfish, and I was trapped between the love I felt for her and the feeling of suffocation caused by her behaviour. I recall perfectly when she told me that she wouldn’t let anyone come between us, and I realized afterwards that she was really talking about my father” 

“She was jealous of your father?” 

“She ended up jealous of everyone”, Mairon answers sitting still and looking straight ahead. 

“No experience about parenting but I think it involves a certain amount of sacrifice but…well, your mother was after something else. How she gained your trust again, Mairon?” 

Mairon winces, once again touched by his deep understanding of him. Slowly he rises his head to look up at him, searching for a kiss and Melkor´s lips lean against his: a soft brush, warm and sweet interrupted by a tiny bite on his lower lip, before Mairon sucks on it, gently and yet possessively. Then, the red-haired man tightens in their hug and Melkor places again the cheek on his head.

“You know, self-guilt is a powerful sand trap, even if she never used guilt to manipulate me: glad I feel totally free from it now. But her _ritual_ was to offer me an ice-cream when I was a child”, Mairon confesses candidly, “It was not the ice-cream in itself but the idea of calm and peace restored after a family war. I deeply hated those moments, when with sealed lips I went out with her: so fake and detestable. But I was only a child and, somehow, I felt glad: ‘there´s no reason’ - I said to myself – ‘to feel so guilty about their contempt’. So adult I was in my dizzying thoughts, so oddly lost in a world of shadows”. 

“You´ve never been a child, Mairon”, Melkor whispers stroking softly his hair, that seems even more coppery with the blazing light from the fireplace. 

“Funnily,”, Mairon goes on, “I was absolutely sure that, in other people’s houses there was never a fight, never crying or yelling: calm and tranquillity reigned and quarrelling was a particular shame of my home. Then, one day I grew up and I’ve just… _discovered_ , with a great sense of relief, that there are fights in all the houses of the earth because love, or a relationship in itself, can’t save us from ourselves” 

“Just think about my brother”, chuckles Melkor, “the ‘ _perfect_ ’ man ended up with a crazy woman, arguing most of the time around things that don´t really happen during day or night time!” 

It starts as an amused giggle but it increases its strength and, after some seconds, Mairon lifts his head and laughs with a serene expression, exploding in a chortle that makes Melkor himself laughing heartily. As soon as the laugh is over, Mairon leans his back on the couch and stretches his leg under the low table, still firmly in their hug but without hiding his face anymore. 

“What happened after”, Melkor asks, cuddling his hair in that embrace, probably one of the most beautiful they ever had, “during your first age of reason?” 

“Well, I stepped inside adolescence with the idea that _that house_ was no longer the place it was before”, Mairon answers placid, “no longer _home_ from which I looked at the rest of the universe, but only where I ate in hurry listening to words, intelligible at that point of my life, but useless. Eat and run away for not hearing them: I could never be happy with them around me arguing for days and days. And again, my mom kept with her toxicity, sobbing and telling me that she was sure about the fact that I was the only one who couldn´t let her down: all her unsolved knots, all of her life burden confusedly on me” 

“But you were grown, at that point”, Melkor points out. 

“Exactly”, affirms Mairon, “I chastised her with profound disregard, muteness and impenetrability: I defended myself against her or them, as it was a revenge against the both of them in their home. Sometimes, fighting happened awakened by myself, because of my silence and behaviour; and alone in my room, suddenly breaking that huge victorious smirk, I busted into tears, thinking about my solitude and my parents’ incomprehension about me. At some point, I felt a strange pleasure in pouring hot tears and suffocating sobs in the pillow” 

“What about your father?”, Melkor asks, “How you father could allow all that?” and Mairon grasps something in his deep voice, an undertone of anger or annoyance. 

“I think he tried to do something about it”, Mairon pauses while his fingers play with a strand of soft black hair, “the only thing I can say is that, sometimes we are too quick to judge what is not compliant to the idea we have of it” 

“You mean you forgave him?”, Melkor pursues, crossing his arm over the chest in a sign of incredulity. 

“About two years ago, we talked about all the grievances, all the issues we had in the past and he confessed he was trapped between me, his son, and his wife and…he didn’t know how to manage the situation: it’s just that it seemed like no matter what he did for her, it was never enough, or wasn’t right” 

“That’s ridiculous!” 

“No, I don’t think so”, Mairon replies promptly, focused eyed contact, “I´ve learnt there are some…invisible mechanisms inside relationships, not easy to catch, not easy to explain; I’m not angry with him, at least not now” 

“I can’t believe you feel no grudge at all: I’d be mad at everyone”, jokes Melkor, but not that much. 

“Matter of fact my mom thought all her life that if you do good deeds for other people, good things will happen for you. She has been a good woman and a good wife, but, at the end, that was not enough” 

“Since when”, emphasises Melkor, “ _mediocrity_ is a value?” 

“And there you are!”, smiles Mairon triumphantly, “ _now_ I recognize you! You´ve been pretty calm until now and that isn´t you!” 

“There’s a _monster_ inside of us”, Melkor growls, his deep voice seething with disdain, “something wicked and powerful: a voluntary and deliberated force ready to manipulate people - unconsciously and even consciously, as you’ve seen by yourself – aimed to achieve our own purposes. In this perception, face the truth: what seems love is often mixed with various kinds of monstrosity and sometimes no one of us can tell love from use”. 

Melkor´s words have the power to leave Mairon speechless, appearing so unfeeling and cruel at first. Nevertheless, in the beginning of their relationship, Mairon himself had to _hurt_ Melkor, with a coldness that almost made him shocked of himself: ‘You destroyed me feeling no guilt at all’, once Melkor told him during one beautiful night together. And it was awful true.  
A necessary pain and Mairon had to inflict it mercilessly: the only way to break through the impenetrable stronghold that Melkor built as protection around his heart. ‘It´s necessary’ - Mairon said to himself – ‘and pain is only a passage’. Otherwise, Melkor couldn´t have taken him seriously, otherwise their story could have been only a pleasurable _entertainment_ between one task and another during the long working days, a more or less intense fuck of a shorter or longer period, only that and nothing more.  
Matter of fact: if Mairon had not hurt him, Melkor would have missed that, all of that they have together at that point.  
For whom Mairon did it? For Melkor? Or for himself? 

Yes, once again Melkor is right; Mairon´s opening his eyes to a thing that should not be assumed: inside love we are not protected. Inside love, one _feels_ more exposed, one _is_ more _vulnerable_. 

“We all have darkness inside of us but also there´s something more”, Melkor whispers tucking a strand of coppery hair behind his ear, his voice calm and collected once more, as if mesmerized or lost in his tiny freckles and in the deep of his hazel eyes, “you can cheat others, but you couldn´t lie to yourself: the awareness of being different than anything observed inside and outside of ourselves, and it never awakens without changes”. 

Melkor stays in silence for some moments, pampering him and loving the way his body feel between his arms, the way he smells, the way his hair feels silky on his face when he nuzzles his creamy side neck to place a kiss on it; and then he goes on: “At the end, you remember you loved him, and you know that you did what had to be done, nothing more, nothing less”. 

Understanding that he´s speaking again of his father, Mairon asks with a feeble voice: “What about your mother?” 

“Not every child has a loving mom”, Melkor whispers, “some are toxic, just like yours, some decide to leave when you are four years old and your brother is only two. Don’t ask me about my mom, I know nothing of her, not even I remember her face or her voice: better that way”.  
A deep sadness, combined with a quiet strength, makes him seem incredibly perfect and even more irresistible; Melkor leans in closer to him and softly caresses with his fingertips Mairon´s mole, pointing the center of attention near the corner lip: “I had only my father and it hasn’t been an easy relationship”. 

Silently Mairon ponders how far a childhood experience do influence an adult relationship.  
“How one can say love from use?”, then he asks. 

Melkor shakes the head before leaning it against the couch: “No one can”, he whispers, “and yet, one knows the effect of love inside of him and in it one has to trust: I never knew I could love someone this much, Mairon. I love you more and more every day, if it’s even possible to love someone that much. And I see I´ve never been in a real relationship, neither I´ve ever really loved before you came into my life” 

“I´ve loved before, you know it, but-”, Mairon pauses, “I´ve always dreamt of loving more or deeper. And now I can tell you that no one loves a person that much as I do” 

“You’re right: hollow words are not for you, _my love_. More than that and in spite of what you’ve been through in life, to come through that, to stay strong, keeping a shining and sublime idea of relationship, as the one I experience every day of my life with you. That’s incredible and I cannot but admire and love you even more. You know why?” 

Mairon shakes his head. 

“You´re a gift”, whispers Melkor, looking into those gorgeous hazel eyes, “without you my life just falls apart”. 

If that was not _love_ , Mairon would choose to burn into the lake of fire holding on to that _illusion_ forever than live a life _in truth_ without him. His eyes widen, a fire rages in his blood, his pulse increases, his heart pounds heavily while Melkor takes his hand in his and brushes his cheek on the back of the hand, then nuzzles his nose tenderly before kissing it with his lush lips, and Mairon smiles that soft smile of him, that tells everything Melkor needs to hear. 

Feeling a full abandonment of reason, a heat of feeling surges into Mairon when Melkor wraps him completely in his arms, burying his finger into his coppery soft hair, and kisses him without hesitation: first a light brush on his mole, then his mouth soft and firm, the sweet texture of his full lips like velvet on his lips. Mairon´ smile deepens, enjoying how Melkor takes his time caressing his lips with his, before drawing Melkor’s lower lip gently between his sharp teeth, holding it there and sucking voluptuously at it. 

Everything quickly evolves into hot waves of pure lust and Melkor, making a soft sound in his throat, guides Mairon’s mouth open with his lips, deepening the kiss until his tongue slides past his teeth to softly stroke his. The hands draw him against his body wandering up his back, stroking his coppery hair before grabbing it firmly, drawing a sharp gasp from him. 

Melkor moans in pleasure as the free hand moves to the front of his body, hurriedly unrobes him and pulls him with him, before enclosing his body with the arms again, the hands gripping him tightly by his round and perfect ass, drawing him in tight, feeling his hard and pierced nipples against his chest, until Mairon lays only on his body on top of him. 

Cock against cock, even if Melkor´s still trapped in the jeans, they ground their bodies together and Mairon sinks his tongue possessively into his mouth.  But, abruptly, he pulls back leaving his sweet mouth just to look down his torso and their joined hips as he begins to unbutton Melkor´s shirt. He helps Mairon and in a moment his moist skin´s pressed firmly to Mairon´s, their bodies slipping against each other. Then, it gets a bit more frantic and also Melkor´s undergarment follows Mairon´s to the floor. 

Mairon´s mouth follows down Melkor´s body, kissing his huge cock as it pops up, free at last: he swallows it and explores it thoroughly with the skilled tongue and mouth as it firms even more under that silky stimulation. Huge and ready, but Mairon frees the cock from his velvety grasp, comes up and guides his legs to wrap about his thighs; Melkor, with one single fluid motion of the hips, lets Mairon know that he wants to draw Mairon in, and Mairon´s more than willing as he lifts him by his buttocks exposing him to rest on the upper legs. 

The red-haired man strokes the head of the cock over his entrance before sliding inside him, then a whimper and the feeling of the stretching around him; the filling sensation Mairon´s giving Melkor is like a sweet agony, and he moans as the younger man moves in slowly, giving him time to take the cock and to enjoy each step. When Mairon bottoms him completely, Melkor groans and holds his eyes with his. 

“Mmm”, Melkor sighs, “more”, he says, enjoying the feel of his cock buried deep inside him. 

“I´m going to give you everything”, whispers Mairon, the same electric feeling running through his flesh. He runs his hands up his perfect body as he pulls almost out of him. Then, Mairon drives back in, hard with a slow motion, to the hilt.  Melkor cries out at how well he´s being filled and almost lifts from the floor, his body arching so much, but Mairon presses him back, locking his mouth to his. 

Melkor rides Mairon´s cock imaginatively as usual, demanding for more with each thrust inside him and he reaches his own length, having any kind of stimulation from the younger man, aching desperately for feeling a touch around his throbbing cock. But Mairon chases his hand away, “Don´t”, he chastens, and pins him by his wrists to the floor steadily, before increasing the speed even further. He thrusts deep and hard with each buck of his hips.  Melkor moans, growls, almost laughs in his lust, his whole body’s rocked by the powerful thrusts, lost in the rhythm, eyes glued into Mairon’s.  
The thrusts still for some seconds. Then Mairon starts thrusting with vigour, feeling beautifully lost in their love making. He moans thrusting, his mouth kissing and sucking at Melkor’s lips, forgetting everything but his cock inside his beautiful man and the satisfying sensation of their tongues playing together, until he comes. 

Hot waves crosses Melkor´s form feeling Mairon´s seed inside of him: “More”, he whimpers; but Mairon brings his right index finger to his lips in a shushing-gesture, then he pins once again Melkor to the floor. After that, he tilts the head back, feeling his own hair tickling his own back, simply ignoring him in his post-orgasmic state, a warm glow surging inside of him, cuddling and protecting him. Some seconds he spends like that before sliding out of Melkor´s body. 

Mairon dominates but it´s Melkor´s pleasure that’s fully satisfied.

“Everything”, Mairon hisses in his ear, and Melkor surrenders himself to the sensations of his will, allowing complete and total access for Mairon´s lips to nibble and suck on his. Mairon begins to stroke his hard cock, finally giving him the stimulation denied until that moment, and Melkor closes his eyes in bliss. The hand is replaced with something softer, and Mairon puts his tongue out to lick the clear droplet of pre-come from his member. Then he kisses the end of it, and finally run his whole mouth down around it. “Please”, Melkor moans out of frustration when Mairon, all of a sudden and just when the climax started to grow into his groin, releases it and sits down on his lap, the cock ending up between his butt cheeks. 

Craving that moment when he feels his incredibly hard cock first entering his body, Mairon sighs a muffled “Huge”, as he pulls himself up and starts impaling himself on it, the cockhead penetrating him on centimetre after thick centimetre and Melkor grunts and watches, spellbound, as he bears down on him, the shaft disappearing out of sight up into his body as Mairon presses down on it: more than half length is buried inside him when he starts to breathe hard and moan another murmured “Huge”. 

“I want to see you taking every centimetre inside you”, Melkor growls in his deep voice, taking hold of his hips and pressing him down, slowly and steadily. With one more sigh Mairon does get it all the way in, the shaft completely out of sight, buried inside him, the balls now pressing against his cheeks, and half-hard again. The man with black hair moves his hand until he holds the side of the neck and stretches his thumb to rub it over his lips. They part and Mairon sucks his thumb into his mouth: he feels a jolt inside the body while Melkor’s cock stiffens further. 

Melkor lifts himself twitching his strong abs and hugs Mairon between his arms, “Oh yes”, Mairon purrs, before Melkor´s lips devour him with a loving, luscious kiss, as he now begins to fuck him enthusiastically, sensually, while Mairon rides him. His big hands travel around his body until one reaches his butt cheek, spreading it wider, the other one reaches Mairon´s soft points, softly tweaking his left nipple and tugging at it with the fingers, pulling out one sensual moan from him.  And Mairon´s cock reacts immediately, stiffening and standing straight up, rigid once again between their bodies and he starts bucking up and down, riding Melkor furiously, thrusting with a hard rhythm.  
The sensation is electric, even too much: “Slow down, Mairon”, Melkor begs, “I can´t…like that…”, he mumbles, gazing into his lust-crazed eyes, too fast is his pace, his orgasm approaching inexorably. And Mairon gets slower only to squeeze carefully and deliciously his cock with his tight muscles. 

“Naughty”, Melkor says gritting teeth, that powerful suction is a vice around his cock, his frustration spilling over. And his teeth follow his fingers and they graze his nipples gently, one at a time, paying them equal amounts of attention with gentle sucks and licks and bites all around the steel bars that pierce them: juicy and suckable, the most erogenous point of all Mairon´s body. The younger man groans, feeling the tips of them becoming rock hard and jolts of pleasure are shooting through his flesh: he trembles between Melkor´s arms with one uncontrolled moan slipping out of his lips. The sensation intensifies, feeling Melkor´s penis pulsating and stiffening inside him as he unloads a hot gush of sperm, emptying plenty of his pleasure deep inside of him. And just as he comes, Mairon allows himself a sublime second release, climaxing extravagantly together with him. He holds him tight until Melkor goes soft. 

Still in their embrace, Mairon tries to lift himself off his cock but Melkor stops him, locking him even tighter in his arms, kissing lovingly his neck with many tiny kisses: “You’re not going anywhere”, between one attention and another. 

 “Oh yes, please, don’t let me go” 

“That’s what I’m doing”, while one kiss becomes something different as Melkor start kissing more tightly, harder and aggressively. 

The red-haired man giggles, with a pleasant needles sensation running through his skin. “Just take me in the bedroom, and just hold me for a while, will you?” 

Melkor nods while he sucks gently just to leave a mark of possession, nice and visible on the right side of Mairon’s neck. “Then, we could have a shower together”, glancing satisfied at his piece of art. 

“Insatiable”, punctually Mairon comments. 

“Your fault”, Melkor adds, softly rubbing the nose and mouth against the left side of his neck, “can’t get enough of you”, there he whispers. Mairon chuckles lovingly for he can’t get enough of being admired and praised by his man.  
And then, Melkor lifts him in his arms, the softened cock slipping from his sinuous body and dripping sinfully on the parquet floor. 

Oh, how Mairon loves those moment, when he picks him up bodily, with an arm around the shoulders and the other under his ass, and carries him to their bed, always amazed at how easily he lifts him, how lovingly he cuddles him in his strong arms. 

While Melkor walks through the house, Mairon tightens the grab of his legs around his hips, studying him with a mix of awe and overwhelming passion in the eyes, and ponders the nature of the both of them: Melkor, so meticulous and inflexible but chaotic, swirling, encircling and enchanting at once, in a perfect balance that makes him the way he beautifully is. And Mairon himself, sometimes over-precise close to be cutthroat but so deeply emotional and internalising.

Melkor climbs the staircase and Mairon presses himself against him even more tighter, kissing his high cheekbone with many soft touch of the lips, over and over again, and thinks about their contradiction joined in one simple hug: Melkor’s life experiences, his contorted logic, his beautiful and addictive “flaws” - sweeter than honey - and his dominant strong points.

When Melkor reaches their soft and inviting bed, placing him tenderly and carefully in the middle of it, Mairon looks up to him and wonders about _how_ they understand each other so intimately, instant by instant, sometimes without the use of words but just observing in the depth of each other’s eyes.

Finally, Melkor cover their bodies with the duvet and wraps him again in his arms, placing Mairon´s head on his strong and smooth chest, breathing deeply and inhaling his silky hair scent. The younger man presses himself firmly around him, squeezing him hard and long, as if his life depends on it, and thinks about their most marvellous intimate connection: how much they are able to re-create their story anew every day of their life: two different path that, seen from the above, is only one. 

And, perhaps, their ritual´s not to split a glass of this or that expensive wine, but naturally and deeply to share and live the whole of their life together to its fullest.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> porn (almost) without plot chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having very hard weeks but the idea of posting this chapter today helped me a lot.  
> Here we go with a porn chapter with a very possessive and dominant Melkor. There are some kinks (at least four) here but not going to spoil any of them! :)  
> Thanks to [shackal-jackal](http://shackal-jackal.tumblr.com) for the (silly) drawing you'll find while reading.  
> And thanks to J, who waited patiently for this :)  
> Hope you enjoy it ♥

 

> "For that reason Melkor steps in without a word, pretending to not notice two centimetres of his lower belly skin in plain view, between the sweatpants - slipped a bit too much down by his hips - and the black-faded old metal t-shirt.  
>  He doesn’t see his coppery hair styled in a loose braid. And he doesn’t fill – not at all – his lungs intensely with Mairon’s scent: everything there is permeated with it. Melkor would smell his pillow. Melkor wants that smell in his bedroom.  
>  He pretends to not look persistently at his small and round ass, emphasised by the fitted style of the sweatpants, while Mairon gives him his back to close the entrance door.  
>  Eventually, he fakes to not notice his bare feet; Melkor doesn’t like feet: it’s not his thing but with Mairon’s he would make an exception, gladly".
> 
> _Learn the Tube_ \- **Chapter 5**
> 
>  

Knock-knock. “Are you here?” 

His husky voice resounds in the empty room and Mairon gets no answer back. 

‘Strange’ - thinks Mairon - looking out the door: Melkor’s not there. Not even in the kitchen or in the living room or elsewhere in the first floor.  
After dinner and after spending time with him, Melkor usually retires to his office home for long hours at night.  
From his arms Tevildo softly yawns, quickly licks his nose and suspiciously glances up at him: that walk around the house has gone far enough for his liking: he’d rather do something more productive. 

Climbing the glass stairs, the light from the upper floor discloses the mystery: Melkor’s simply in their bedroom. Doubly strange - Mairon thinks - to find him there at that time of the night: never before 2 a.m. Melkor indulges in slumber and when he does, there’s something going wrong in his life. 

And still, Melkor’s lying on side on their bed, smirking as the red-haired man steps inside the room, bringing with him that little pest called Tevildo (a saint, in all fairness, but he will never claim or admit it officially); he observes Mairon silently but alluringly: he doesn’t want to miss the moment in which he notices _it_.

Mairon looks pleasantly surprised as Melkor’s hungry eyes courses slowly down his body; he smiles slightly, enduring his lusty gaze, getting without any doubt what’s going in his mind in that moment. 

“Here you are!”, says Mairon, “Why here so early?”, while sits Tevildo down on soft pillows in the nook behind their bed, getting back a satisfied purr of approval. 

And finally, it catches his attention; placed in the middle of his bed side, a small elegant onyx-black box with a thin golden ribbon is just waiting for him to be opened. His first reaction is to frown his forehead and Melkor loves his reaction. 

“O-ho”, Mairon utters, glancing at it in surprise; well, it’s not like anybody can say that Melkor’s not a man of many surprises – thing that Mairon personally adores – and, living with him, he learnt it very quickly.  “And that one?”, Mairon asks questioningly. 

“I don’t know”, just shrugging, “open it”, with his absolutely serious tone of voice. 

Mairon chuckles; the gift recalls him of all those ‘premium series’ bottles for car lovers – in luxurious black and gold colours – used by Melkor to keep his precious sports car spotless, more expensive than the ‘normal’ ones just enough to make them unreachable for poor mortals’ wallets. He curiously probes the weight: light as a feather, it doesn’t may contain anything heavy or bulky. 

“May I have a kiss before?”, Melkor asks rhetorically, adoring the view of him kept hanging some seconds more. 

“Not before opening”, giggles Mairon, “I’m just supposing I may not like it!” 

“Definitively you won’t like it _at first_ ” 

Mairon scowls at him, “What that means?” 

“You won’t understand, _at first_ ” 

“You’re giving me something for you?” 

“I’d not say so” 

“What you’d say, then?” 

“I’d say that you don’t see what _I_ see”, concludes Melkor, “Only one kiss before opening it”, getting out of the bed to reach him and wrap him in his arms possessively. 

And his arms are not a thing Mairon could ever say no; thus, Melkor’s luscious lips find its way to his, stealing his breath and making his knees wobble and go weak, for no one kisses like Melkor does. The kiss grows passionate, fighting for dominance and Melkor eventually wins.  
They both moan into the kiss as it starts to get heavy while Melkor kisses hungrily his jaw, down to his neck then to the collarbone. Abruptly he pauses, with a low growl from his throat: the kiss’s becoming too hot and heavy, full of desperate rush of desire, fast, too fast in his passion, and Mairon’s body too tempting.

Curiously, Mairon lowers his chin to look at the small gift box in his hand, probing once again its weight and Melkor smiles: “You can guess all day, but you’ll never know unless you open it”. Victoriously Mairon grins while his fingers begin to work to the thin ribbon to undo the bow. 

 “It’s pretty to touch”, says Mairon. 

“Everything’s perfect just for you”, Melkor whispers, “just like you”. 

Mairon chuckles, craving his man’s praise and adoring when he worships him. Finally, the box opens, and inside he sees something silky, luxurious and unpalpable. Sensing the lightness of the item, with a careful touch of his fingertips, he takes the content out and it displays before his eyes in all its beauty: a pair of black seamed in red thigh high stockings. 

Not expecting anything like that, Mairon rises his eyes to look at him and frowns his forehead. 

“You don’t see what I see”, repeats Melkor, carefully taking out of his hands the opened gift and placing it on the bed. Then his lips attack again Mairon’s, pulling him towards him again. The kiss’s somehow sweeter this time, but his brain’s still confused from moments before and he doesn’t respond to his lips moving over his at first. Melkor pauses in his kissing and Mairon feels his fingers while they make their own way to his lower belly, slipping down only the super thin sweatpants he’s wearing. 

“Sit”, he orders while taking his own shirt off, and the younger man obeys; then, Melkor drops to his knees before him and begins to stroke the length of his legs with the fingers spread wide: it’s a pleasure to gently run them up and down those legs – pale like milk and scattered with few tiny freckles here and there – to slowly fondle his ankles, the sides and the backs of his knees. 

Mairon feels the tip of each finger and that touch so soft lets him get goose bumps: his nipples react too, hardening and sending quivers all over his body. He inhales sharply while Melkor exhales forcefully, so that he can feel warm air tickling on his legs; and a warmer feeling is given him while he nuzzles with the soft lips and the nose, moving excruciatingly slowly from the ankles up as he holds his calves in his hands firmly.

Melkor kisses his thighs, letting the tongue touch his skin leaving just a trace of dampness behind, breathing the sweet smell of his skin. All that, in combination with light touch and hot breath, in a slow, disciplined movement, elicits Mairon’s writhing, squirming and giggling. 

“Get naked”, a flat-out command with an imperious tone and Mairon takes the tee off almost unconsciously as mesmerised: ‘ _do what you want with me_ ’ - he thinks - exposing his bare chest and those delicious pierced nipples. Melkor’s lips are on his once again, a soft caress played across his lips before sensing his tongue flicking his. Melkor even deepens that kiss, his tongue overwhelmingly plunging into his mouth while Mairon exposes his sex, removing completely the underpants: ‘ _do whatever you want to me_ ’, his mind repeats, as an obsessive refrain. 

Melkor’s hands reach for his legs once more. Then, he gently makes Mairon’s left leg bunch so that the inside of the toe is exposed creating an easy pathway for the foot, so that he can place it inside the length of the stocking without tearing the fabric. Mairon tilts his head observing his hot hands on his bare skin, wondering if that’s the first time he does it or not. Something inside him wishes it to be Melkor’s first experience, and making Mairon the first person enjoying that kind of attention from him but, mesmerized by his movements once more, he chases from his thoughts that idea and gives himself to all the sensations completely. 

And Melkor gathers one leg of the stockings carefully to toe and makes the foot slip inside of it. Mairon point the toe to help the movement and a little gasp escapes from his lips when Melkor slowly and sensuously slips the stockings up the leg, his big hands caress from toe to half of the thigh to pull smooth the fabric up, to make it sure it’s not twisted around the leg, so that the seam on the back side runs across the leg flawlessly. 

Melkor eases on along the leg again, carefully and slowly, enjoying the sensation under his hands of Mairon’s skin, cold and smooth, even more smooth now, insisting a little around the thigh, stimulating all the nerves in that soft zone. Then, his hands close around his ankle to twist lightly the leg and to check the underside of it: the red seam is placed perfectly where it’s supposed to be. 

“Perfect”, Melkor murmurs and rises his glance to meet Mairon’s eyes. Then, he takes the other stocking and repeat with the left leg. Gathering the fabric and pulling the hose leg up over the calf and knee until he reaches the thigh. Mairon moans with his hands smothering the fabric around the skin, focusing on the upper inner thigh, so close to other parts of his body: accidentally his finger brushes against one testicle. 

Melkor takes a look to check the back seam and the pointy heel: perfect and he can’t wait to see the effect in its totality. Thus, he stands and offers his hands to help Mairon up: he rises fluidly and Melkor steps back just to watch him as he runs the fingertip over the wrapped legs feeling doubly the smoothness of his skin. 

“Turn around”, commands Melkor with a lusty look of anticipation. 

And all that Mairon feels is his fingers brushing the thigh-high garters, and then his buttocks, possessively and sensually; and one arm sneaks around his waist and Melkor’s lips kiss his adorned lobe before whispering “Go and take a long look in the mirror”. 

Mairon slightly smiles and walks the path from the bed to the bathroom swinging his hips with a hint of pretence, just to make Melkor even more aroused with anticipation of what will be later, imaging the effect on him so easily. And predictably, Melkor’s cock twitches painfully at the erotic view. 

Once before the mirror, Mairon thinks he has already admired his own buttocks in many occasion but this time he wants to play Melkor’s game, trying to pretend to observe them for the first time, or as if that juicy ass reflected in the mirror belongs to someone else.   

The back of his legs looks more elegant covered in stockings and those red seams naturally lead the attention to the slimness of his hips, emphasizing the roundish of his young ass, letting him to focus on his lush globes that stand out from the hips with a blowsy fullness. Remarkably inviting is the bottom of each cheek, where his leg and buttock met, so fleshy are they, now highlighted by the black stockings’ garters: he can image Melkor as he greedily kisses or even bites that erogenous zone of him. Mairon finds himself biting his own bottom lip.  
Above his smooth cheeks and at the top of his cleft there’s a flat triangular area enriched on each side by those two deep dimples on the lower of his back, making the top bottom seem even sexier: an appearance of femininity, he could say to describe it, and his fingers flick lightly at the hardening tips of his pierced nipples. The deep crack running down the middle seems to exert a mysterious appeal and he can imagine himself spreading those lush globes to investigate his own hidden secret. Oh, his ass is like an exquisite, dainty delicacy to be unwrapped and savoured slowly. 

Admiring his own body, Mairon gets a throbbing erection with a suffocated moan. The pulsing of his cock with want is the proof that Melkor’s game worked fully on him, playing between a sick desire for his own body and the simple imagination of Melkor’s lust towards him: he craved himself the way Melkor craves him.  
A well-deserved sexual praise for himself, and, at that point, it all seems pretty clear to him: most beautiful of all is the understanding that everything Melkor does, he does just to emphasize Mairon’s beauty. 

Lost in this erotic consciousness, almost he doesn’t see Melkor until the man wraps him in his arms, and Mairon finds himself face buried in the crook of his neck, kissing his skin, breathing deeply, inhaling more of the delicious perfume, tasting the savour while Melkor’s fingers trace the shape of his side, down to his hips, and further, to his buttocks. Mairon’s erection against his thighs is the incontrovertible proof that the game worked perfectly on him: Melkor smirks and takes him hand in hand towards their bed.

“Just lie back” 

Melkor’s eyes linger on the beauty of Mairon’s body for some seconds, enjoying how his coppery hair scattered on the bed freely curve in locks before grabbing at his ankles and drag him until his ass is exactly at the edge of the bed. Mairon gives a gasp of surprise, not predicting that sudden move. And Melkor slowly but eagerly lifts one of his feet up to be level with the groin and moves it against his bulge. Mairon’s very sensitive and ticklish initially, moving his foot on reflex cautiously, Melkor holding him firmly by the ankle until he becomes more accustomed to the soft touch against his skin and, eventually, his eyes close while leaning back more comfortably. 

Melkor gradually increases the pressure stimulating one ball through his high arch - which gives Mairon’s foot a nice beauty -, and massaging the underside of the ball in slow circles, causing him to moan softly and sensually. 

Mairon loves how Melkor lusts for the whole of his being, for nobody before him ever made love to every centimetre of his body. Encouraged by the wonderful sounds of pleasure, Mairon lifts the other foot up and presses it against the other ball: now, fully accustomed to the touch, he’s luxuriating in a deep state of relaxation and pleasure, enjoying in itself the pleasure he’s giving to him.

Melkor groans, the effect of the stocking so sensual against his testicles, a thrill of pleasure starts from them extending into his abdomen, so as getting more excited, experiencing satisfying contractions that radiate throughout his body. It’s a light brush of Mairon’s foot against the middle of his ball sack, a light pressure there where many nerves end, and then up, gently running up the underside of the hard-rock cock that makes Melkor reach the climax almost unwittingly, with a surprised moan from both of them.  
His seed glistening on Mairon’s ankles is one of the most peccable view he’s ever experienced so far. 

Melkor lets Mairon’s legs go and sits on the lid of the bed; but before Mairon can do anything, he tightly grabs at one of his wrist and ankle in the same motion and forcefully pulls him over his lap until the red-haired man finds himself lying over him, to give him complete access to his ass. 

Mairon protests faintly, once again overturned by his sudden action, but eventually he giggles, loving deeply how he’s mixing tenderness and mastery towards him so playfully that night. 

Across his lap, Mairon’s ass looks even more gorgeous and somehow ‘spankable’ - if possible; Melkor’s fingers run caressing the length of the back of his legs, following meticulously the red seams of the stockings. “I’m going to be a little rough this time”, he whispers, placing one hand firmly on his lower back to hold him still, pressing the other open palm into one cheek, “you’ll enjoy how pain and sex can combine together to make for a really intimate and passionate indulgence: it’s _delightful_ ”. His deep voice’s like a smooth velvety caress on his body, making all very stimulating and pleasant, and Mairon loves the way Melkor experiments with different things, which always make for a fresh and new thrill being with him. 

Melkor pushes his ass up, simply pointing the toes against the floor and Mairon finds himself beautifully exposed, waiting for the first slap across his skin with trepidation, and it doesn’t take time to arrive: Melkor raises the other hand and gives him a playful smack on his right cheek. Mairon giggles. The next is harder, but still soft, as the other three and several more for starters. Then, he hits and it almost stings. More five hits and Mairon’s ass is warm and in a light shade of rosy red with his palm prints all over it. Melkor growls enthused, Mairon’s skin responding wonderfully, the slaps resounding sinfully in the room and his cheeks vibrating so tenderly. 

Mairon doesn’t realized how turned on he’s until feeling Melkor’s cock hard again, throbbing against his hip: all that spanking made Melkor eager to fuck him the way he likes in those circumstances. Mairon moans, feeling his ass starting to tingle but Melkor knows it and carefully spanks one cheek and the other alternately and only occasionally both together, sometimes firming his slap sometimes softening it. Mairon closes his eyes focusing on his sensation, but also he takes each slap knowing how much of pleasure Melkor’s enjoying, feeling very good that he can give him that pleasure through his vibrant body.  
The spanking becomes regular with an absolutely electrifying experience, feeling Melkor indulging in his very kinky ways. 

Melkor stops and touches him in different ways with just the suggestion of a lock of his hair tickling his skin rather than his hand across the well-spanked ass, simply adjusting the pain with the pleasure of tenderness until it hurts no more.  
As soon as the open palm left his cheeks, ready to start again, Melkor sets a faster speed, and, when the glorious numbness sets in, Mairon can feel the heat rising into his whole being, looking forward to the ultimate feel of pleasure which will make it all complete and so very, very intimate: his body is trembling, he has goose-bumps all over him and, like an explosion, Melkor’s open hand strikes his bottom with enough force to make him feel a jolt of electricity inside his cock and balls. 

There’s no hesitation: the hand bounces off his butt and slams back into him.  
By that second session, Mairon started to moan out loud uncontrollably with each blow: Melkor grins at the view of that composed and patient man while he squeals and wiggles out shamelessly in a whirlpool of pleasure, and the hand moves from Mairon’s back until the fingers curve around his nape, holding him there firmly still, thing that drives Mairon crazy with desire, lost in a haze of lust.  
As if Melkor gets Mairon’s feeling, he renews his beating with more vigour than before, hitting the spot Mairon observed so carefully some moments before in the mirror, where legs and cheeks join together. One, two, three, four on the same spots, alternatively, Mairon’s cock’s pulsing from the fantastic vibrations: exquisite gushes of sperm splatter on Melkor’s lap. 

In a very soft, loving voice Melkor speaks again while caressing his reddened cheeks, “You’ve never looked more adorable than you do right now”, running the hands up and down the stocking covered legs and the freshly spanked, bright red bottom, “Yes, you are perfect”. 

Those words magnify Mairon’s after glowing, and he can’t resist the temptation to turn his head and watch him while the man adores his back: Melkor’s so handsome, the desire for him in his eyes working like the best praise Mairon ever got, and he purrs softly, hearing his own echo in his mind. 

Melkor tenderly lets him slide off his lap before kneeling on the bed border and proceeding to fuck him as he has desired for a long time: he pushes the cock between his ass’ soft cheeks, so perfect and now so lovely reddish, thrusting hard forth and back, keeping on fucking fiercely, his balls punching loudly against the lower part of the cheeks.  
Even if Melkor is not properly penetrating him, the repetitive thrusting shakes Mairon from the inside in an agonizing ecstasy of that hard and raw pushing forward and back. At times the dark-haired man stops completely just to squeeze the cheeks around the huge cock, a silky softness gripping and massaging it: the perfect visual and sensorial stimulation he was searching for. Until he finds his relief on Mairon’s back, releasing his seed in the middle of those lovely butt dimples: a nice place to welcome his white lava. 

While just beginning to get control of himself again, tirelessly Melkor reaches down and picks his love up into his arms. Admiringly, with adoring eyes, Mairon watches the graceful and protective way he moves while carrying him across the bedroom to reach the shower-room. He knees down beside Mairon, grabs a washcloth and begins to wash and pamper every centimetre of his body, so gentle with that washcloth against his skin. They end with brushing each other’s hair without saying a word but holding eye contact constantly. 

Before leaving the room, Melkor picks him up into his arms once again, and carries him to their bed once again. He leans down and lays him on the bed. Mairon winces when the skin first meets the cold sheets, but eventually gets comfortable when Melkor pulls up the covers and tucks them in. One soft kiss and a whispered word before wrapping him in his protective arms. Mairon’s not awake for more than a few minutes before drifting off to sleep with a deep and peaceful breath. And with that, Melkor gets out the bed, closes the door behind him almost all the way and walks down to his dark office room for some hours of inspired work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *If you want to read some particular events, things or happenings in this fic, just write me prompts: you're always welcome!*


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short (and smutty) and totally unexpected. I can't exactly explain why two days ago I felt the necessity to write this aspect of their life together...but I'm happy I did. I can only say that I love their love. I love to write about their relationship also through simple moments of their life together...and I love exploring feelings and sensations on their skin. I hope you can feel them, and touch them, and be with them in their love.

Silently walking into their room, he just realises that his chaotic heart missed another truth until that very moment.

There’s something radically inexplicable with the view of him, something near to a harmonic motion of the soul, as he peruses the body beneath the thin bedsheet.  
He can’t help but stare at him, as he sleeps peacefully in their bed lying on the side; his deep and relaxed breathing makes the world to seem to stand still. Eyelids closed against the darkness of Tevildo’s fur, the innocence showed on the sleeping face, serene dreams blocking out everything of the outside. All the muscles in his face and body are totally at peace: not a twitch, not a spasm, barely any movement of his chest rising and falling with each intake of air such is the depth of his oblivion. Even the cat is louder than him.

Oh, how beautiful is Mairon totally at rest, collected, at one with himself.

Melkor slowly undresses, trying to not make a sound of any kind. Noiselessly the mattress dips under his weight, as he carefully lies in the bed. Then, he snugs close to Mairon, puts his arms around him to hug him from behind and pull him close, cuddling him with tenderness.

“Melkor”, Mairon softly whispers in a brief moment of unconscious consciousness, before falling again into the nullity of his sleep. And to Melkor there’s nothing more beautiful than it, when his love _feels_ him with his mind and body, even if he’s drowsing.

Melkor kisses the flaming strands of his hair and buries the nose deep into them, inhaling profoundly the silky scent. The transparent and sexy hint of his skin surrounds him as he reaches his nape, and there he places a soft, tiny kiss.  
Melkor _needs_ the grounding that Mairon gives him.

Mairon truly thinks even better than falling asleep beside Melkor is the feeling of waking up next to him.

The heat perceived is the unwitting sensation telling him that Melkor’s finally there in bed with him; not only physical but rather a spiritual warmth: his soul expands and shines into Melkor’s, for he has never felt so protected or safe in someone’s arms like in his, feeling like the rest of the world melts into thin air.

There are nights when, clasped tightly in his arms, he just keeps sleeping, for it seems that he hasn’t slept so well his whole life. Some nights, like that one, Mairon feels naughty and tender, at once. He rolls over to his side and helps himself burying his face in the crook of his neck. The sweet smell of sultry Eternity tickles his nostrils, as he nuzzles against his neck, and his dark hair softly brushes against his face the deeper he buries his face into him, for Melkor’s neck was made for Mairon’s kisses, and for them it begs. 

And then, touching him, exploring his skin until he gets his perfect, full lips, nibbling at them, but not hard, no need for teeth marks riddling on his delicate skin in that moment. Melkor kisses him so tenderly, his lips so soft and Mairon feels frozen in heaven as their kissing becomes more passionate.

They break off just for a while; Mairon rapidly takes the shirt off, the one he uses for sleeping. Melkor undoes his pant, and then grasps him in another enveloping hug, kissing passionately and pressing their cocks hard against one another.

“Oh, yes, together”, Mairon moans, as he immediately grabs them and starts stroking them together, never looking away from his eyes.

Every drop of blood running through Melkor’s body goes directly to his shaft at this point. They both moan loudly as the cocks rub together. And Melkor goes in with another kiss and Mairon is blown away. The kiss is incredibly warm and tender, but, at the same time, hungry and full of desire, the perfect mix of emotion and passion, the kind of kiss that tells everything about Melkor’s way of loving him.  
Melkor’s hand joins Mairon’s, and together they massage both of their cocks. Deliberately Melkor breaks contact of their lips at the highest point, leaving him feeling breathless… and wanting more.

“More”, Mairon whispers, searching desperately for his lips, feeling a shudder going through his body, just before Melkor’s tongue licks again into his mouth in a deep, claiming surge. His gaze meets his just for a second, and his free hand moves, gripping his jaw so that he can take Mairon’s mouth in a full-bodied kiss, that’s all tongue and heat and teeth. All Mairon can do is acquiesce. And enjoy it. His kiss turns fervent, almost angry, for Melkor loves to ravish his mouth so fiercely. Mairon groans in such delight under his kiss that it drives Melkor wild. Like so they come together on their throbbing cocks, feeling both hands tightening on the grab as they come. 

Mairon collapses against his chest, sinking into a post-orgasmic bliss smearing the come between them with their hands still on their cocks, trapped between their bodies.  
Melkor pulls him towards his chest with his free hand, and feels Mairon snuggling against him, more than happy to be there. 

Melkor feels intoxicated. Or extremely fucked up of love, with no way out. And like so he wants to spend the rest of his life.  
He plants a kiss onto his forehead, before floating off into a blissful sleep with him, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading ♡ always!  
> Next chapter...a long week of work. :)

**Author's Note:**

> who is the naughtiest? Melkor o Mairon?  
> Thanks for reading ❤


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